The Cycle Of Our Seasons
by ice73
Summary: Time flows on; everybody changes. But for Kousei Arima, a part of the world stopped turning on February 18. Three years later, it began to move again.
1. Brilliant Autumn

The Cycle of Our Seasons

 **Brilliant Autumn**

* * *

Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso © Naoshi Arakawa, A-1 Pictures, and other respective holders.

* * *

 _The question, "Why do children suffer?" has no answer, unless it's simply, "To break our hearts." Once our hearts get broken, they never fully heal. They always ache. But perhaps a broken heart is a more loving instrument. Perhaps only after our hearts have cracked wide open, have finally and totally unclenched, can we truly know love without boundaries._

 _Fred Epstein_

"Yello? Who is this?" The girl at the phone rubbed her eyes. She looked at the display and groaned inwardly. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"I know," the quiet voice at the other end said. "Tsubaki?"

"Kousei? Well, you're a fine one to hear. Just a sec." Tsubaki Sawabe made herself more comfortable, crossing her legs under her as she levered herself into a sitting position. "So how are you? _Where_ are you?"

"I'm living in a castle now. It's awesome." The voice paused. "It seems Hiroko-sensei likes traveling in style."

"Well, that's good to hear. Last time a certain someone called, he had apparently managed to get lost in France, it was raining and he had very little money left."

"Hey, how was I to know that taxi driver was pulling the wool over my eyes?" Tsubaki could hear the mortification in his tone. "Anyway, you got me out of that spot."

"I'm just glad I was able to help. You worried me sick, you know." She pushed the phone to her ear, since Kousei was speaking so low she couldn't hear him very well.

"I know. It won't happen again."

"You sound cute when you're embarrassed." Outside, the twilit street was empty, their neighbors' houses sleeping and still. "So what are you doing now?"

"Hiroko-sensei got me into something called the Young People in Concert. I'll be partnered with a violinist—I'm practicing with her now—and we'll be doing a series of recitals. Then we'll cross the English Channel into England and head home."

Tsubaki chuckled. "I don't envy you all the make-up work you're going to have to accomplish. Is your student behaving herself?"

"Who, Nagi? She can be annoying at times, but it's no big deal. She calls home almost every night, you know that? And she tells me, 'My brother wants to talk to you.'"

"And?"

"I never knew a voice could be so loud over the phone."

Tsubaki tittered. "She must be very excited since it's her first time traveling abroad."

"Yeah, she is. How's school?"

"Nothing much to report, except that I got drafted."

"What?"

"Drafted into dancing for the opening of an anime festival." Tsubaki groaned. "I think I want to vanish off the face of the Earth."

"Couldn't you back out of it?"

"No, the baseball team manager said all of us juniors had to join or we'd be kicked out of the club for 'lack of spirit.'"

"I really have to call Watari after this."

"Why?"

"To tell him to record you for posterity." She could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

"Gee thanks. You're all heart, Mr. Piano. Bleeh. And in case you don't know what that was, that's me sticking my tongue out at you."

"High definition. Watari should use high definition."

 _HD, eh?_ Tsubaki imagined dancing a bit more daringly for Kousei, but quickly snuffed the idea out. She'd come to terms with her feelings for him, and knew that he was still in love with _her._ Even the passage of four years had done little to change him, save to mute his anguish into a deep melancholy that sometimes surfaced when he was reminded of her. She always tried to keep him away from it, though she had only the vaguest of ideas how. She had a picture of him in her head, culled from a dream: a solitary figure buried deep in the snows his own personal winter, and it seemed it would be a long time before he ever emerged from its depths. In there nothing could hurt him, and he could keep his grief a personal matter and not hurt his friends because of it. _Please, tell me about about it,_ she had wanted to tell him many times. _Don't keep the pain to yourself._

At least he was pursuing his music career and seemed happy enough about it.

Kousei laughed. "I would've liked seeing you in a _yosakoi_ dance, though."

"No way," Tsubaki protested. "One performance is enough for a lifetime."

"When you do that second one, Tsubaki, I'll remind you of what you said today."

For some reason she and Kousei wound up chuckling that statement.

"How's the weather there?"

"Everything's fine since that typhoon ended. It's almost October, Kousei. Will you be back by December?"

"Maybe. It's hard to say." There was a rustling sound. "I have to go. We're going to visit Hiroko-sensei's friend."

"And I have a major test later." Looking out the window, Tsubaki saw blinking red and green lights low in the lightening sky. "Tell me your flight, okay? I want to meet you at the airport."

"Will do. Talk to you later."

"Take care."

Once again she looked out at the quiescent world and wondered if _she_ had ever thought of the consequences of leaving that letter to Kousei—he had let Tsubaki know about it once, when he got himself stark raving drunk one night long ago. It was like hanging a dead albatross around his neck, but Tsubaki couldn't blame her. With a short time left to live, she'd have done the same thing herself. One simply couldn't bear the thought of their love, so alive and yet so agonizingly fleeting, being lost to the emptiness and silence of eternity.

 _I couldn't fill that void in his life,_ she thought to herself once. _For him, that is as essential as air and food._ For that reason, she did not begrudge him the memories, though they were a painful reminder of her standing in Kousei's eyes.

Tsubaki looked at the wall clock. She could sleep an hour before she had to get ready for school. She sleepily stretched, noting the dim form of something dark-colored sitting on the road in front of the house on the opposite side of the street.

It was a cat. And even in the shadows of the not-quite-morning, Tsubaki could tell that its eyes were a greenish blue.

-oOo-

September had passed into October, and the trees remained green, uncaring still of the upcoming winter during the warm days of the fading summer. Gathered on one side of the Towa Culture Center, the little group of performers made last-minute preparations. In a few minutes they'd begin their program. There was just a little problem.

"What? Why do I have to be the mascot?" exclaimed Tsubaki. That the one who was supposed to don the roly-poly cat uniform, Koizumi, was going to miss the event was no new news; he had called in to say so two hours ago, felled by a fever. That they were going to stuff _her_ into the costume was.

"Please, Tsubaki-san!" begged Anri Tsugimoto, their de facto leader. She bowed. "It fits you the best and you're the best dancer among us!"

"Oh!" Tsubaki ran her hands through her short brown hair in frustration. She didn't relish getting all sweaty inside the padded uniform. She imagined herself performing in front of all those people and was rewarded with butterflies in her stomach. But it couldn't be helped. "Gimmie!"

There was scattered applause from those around her. She shucked her track pants—causing some of the guys to gawk until they realized she was wearing athletic shorts under the garment—and began to put the costume on, assisted by Anri and another girl.

-oOo-

The opening exhibition went off without a hitch, and they danced amid the applause and onlookers just outside the cultural center. There they had their short display and big finish, which involved the other dancers forming a circle around Tsubaki and waving their fans while doing comic mock-grandiose poses.

The cheer of the audience conveyed their enjoyment at the spectacle. When it was time to exit the area, however, Anri realized that their mascot was standing stock-still in place, and the others were forced to pass by her sides as she blocked their way.

"Hey, Tsubaki," she said, wiping the sweat away from her eyes, "you have to move. People can't exit the stage, you're in the way." The cat waddled off, with Anri staying beside it, ready to help in removing the costume.

When they had almost reached their gathering spot, Tsubaki pointed to her costume's head. Tsugimoto squeezed her shoulder to tell her she understood.

When they had finally relieved her of the monstrous round object, she was shocked at how wet with perspiration their mascot was. Tsubaki looked really tired and her skin was flushed. Anri mopped her face with a towel and signaled for one of their friends, a squinty-eyed guy named Sawamura, to help them.

"God, that was too much," Tsubaki said as Anri tugged her cat forearms off. "I'm never doing this again." Sawamura handed her a drink, but something seemed strange about his behavior. He was staring at her—not at her face, but lower.

Tsubaki looked down and realized her t-shirt had been rendered translucent by her perspiration, exposing her underwear for all the world to see. She covered herself with her arms and yelled loud enough to make Anri (who was unaware of what was transpiring, having turned her back to talk to a fellow student) jump out of her skin.

"What?"

"Do you have a towel or something?" She gestured with her head at herself. "Mitsu-kun here's already had an eyeful."

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare," said Sawamura.

"Looking good, Tsubaki!" exclaimed another voice. Tsubaki turned to her right and found someone familiar standing there. He had a videocam in one hand and grinned at her. She knew that roguish smile all too well.

"Watari! What are you doing here?"

"Doing a favor for Kousei," he answered. "And admiring female charms, it seems." He stepped forward, took Anri's hand and kissed it. "Hi again, Tsugimoto. You look lovely, as you usually do."

"Hi, Watari-kun. Did you come from practice?"

"Yeah. I took off early. Are you free later?"

"Sure. Why?"

"There's this great dessert shop I wanted to pass by and—"

"Will you two stop flirting and give me a hand?" shouted an exasperated Tsubaki. "Watari, I swear, delete that video or I am going to clobber you."

"I can edit it," he said. "C'mon, you're my best bud. I wouldn't embarrass you." He hung the video cam by its strap around his neck, took off the sports jacket he was wearing, and draped it around her shoulders.

"No, I said delete it," Tsubaki snapped, slipping into the garment and zipping it up. "I totally know the 'be-kind-so-she'll-give-in trick,' so it won't work on me."

"Honestly," Watari said, "you offer to help someone and they accuse you of having ulterior motives. It's enough to make you lose faith in people." He held up the video cam.

"Like that '10 Cute Girls' list in your little notebook?" Tsubaki said sardonically.

It was Watari's turn to screech. "What? How'd you know about that?"

"Heh. Remember when we went to the lacquerware museum? It fell out of your bag and I didn't know what it was. I snuck a look before dropping it back in."

"You read it?"

"Yeah." Tsubaki shot him a look. "I never knew you had such . . . varied . . . taste in girls."

Anri laughed.

"That was meant for my eyes only, thank you!" fumed Watari. "I guess I was right to hang on to this." With a flourish he produced a memory card and waved it insouciantly in front of Tsubaki's eyes. "I got the entire video here."

"Wait, what?"

Watari grinned. "You've only deleted the camera's onboard memory. Kousei'll will see what an exhibitionist Miss Sawabe is. "

"Ooh, gimmie that!" Tsubaki tried to grab the memory card, but Watari adroitly pulled his hand back out of reach. They engaged in a free-for-all, with Tsubaki doing all she could to snatch the card, and Watari dodging her swipes and lunges.

"Careful with the camera!"

"Jerk!"

"Gorilla!"

"Pervert!"

"Peanut brain!"

"Uh, are they always like this?" Sawamura asked Tsugimoto as they watched from the sidelines.

Anri nodded. "Half of the time they're like this. The other half they spend making up. It's like they're boyfriend and girlfriend." She smiled. "It's so cute."

The two stopped their martial arts-like scuffle long enough to shout "We're not!"

Tsubaki won by diverting Watari's attention with a shout of "Hey, Keiko!" while looking over his shoulder.

Watari gave her a sardonic smile. "You don't actually think I'll fall for that, do you?"

"No. But _this_ is going to work!" That being said, Tsubaki smashed her heel down on Watari's foot. As Watari howled and transferred his weight off his injured member, Tsubaki let go with a magnificent leg sweep that knocked him down.

She took the card from the prone boy and stood over him in triumph. "You won't be needing this anymore." To everyone's shock she actually broke the card in two.

"Ow. That really hurt, Tsubaki," groaned Watari, clutching his leg. "I was going to give it back to you anyway."

"You still need to learn that a woman will go to any length to protect her dignity," Tsubaki said, brushing her hair away from her face. She helped him up, but he grimaced when he tried to put weight on his damaged foot.

"You okay? I only made you fall," Tsubaki said.

Watari tried twice more. "Nah, it's a no-go. Hurts too much."

"There are seats inside the lobby," volunteered Anri, with a mild look of skepticism. "Maybe we could go there."

Watari nodded and hobbled into the lobby with Sawamura's help. Anri went to fetch one of the medics in the area.

Tsubaki sat down beside her childhood friend. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That's okay. It was my fault, anyway, teasing you like that. Anyway, the memory card you broke was blank." He watched the disbelief dawn on Tsubaki's face and smiled ruefully. "Guess I got what I deserved."

The medic arrived and examined Watari. They brought him to the aid station, gave him some advice, and applied an ice pack to his foot, which had a darkening purple mark. They released him about a half-hour later, during which time Tsubaki , who had also stayed, received a mild admonishment for roughhousing.

By then most of the dancers had gone home, though the venue was crowded and lively with fans and even some celebrities.

Watari poked Tsubaki in the ribs as they took in the scene. "Check it out. Isn't that Risa Taneda, the famous voice actress from High School DDD?" He touched her on the shoulder, mimicking the hero of that Heaven vs Hell story. "Petrifying Attack Dress Brake!"

"I wouldn't know," replied Tsubaki, still feeling a bit stung by the reproof she had received. "I don't watch ecchi anime. But yeah, it looks like her. I watched that tearjerker series where she voiced a pretty violinist who met her true love under the cherry trees." Her brow furrowed. "I think it was called 'Your Euphoric Otter in July.'"

"That's a weird title," Watari remarked.

"I know, I'm probably wrong."

-oOo-

Sawamura had left, and Anri had gone in her parents' minivan to bring the costume and the rest of their paraphernalia back to school. Tsubaki and Watari decided to commute home. She had donned her track pants, changed her shirt, and carried her stuff bag with her. Watari let her keep the jacket. He had gone to the festival with nothing but the camera and a spare battery pack in the belt bag he wore.

"Who are you texting?" Tsubaki asked as their train carried them homeward. She craned her neck, trying to read his cellphone.

"Just my mom," he said. "I told her I'd be coming home later. You mind if I drop by your house?"

"Eh? It's no problem, but what's the occasion?"

"Does there have to be an occasion? I just wanted to hang out for a while."

"The house is a mess," Tsubaki warned.

"That's fine. You never got this uptight about me visiting before."

Tsubaki shook her head. "You know how my parents can be. We aren't children anymore."

"As if I've ever given them cause to worry about me." He looked down at her. "Have I? Because I'm sorry if I ever did."

"No, I don't think so. It's hard to understand the ways of old folks, but I don't think they're concerned about you. _I_ don't think I need to be worried about you. Do I?" She looked sidelong at him.

"Of course not. But I reserve the right."

"You idiot. You really are not my type, so get over yourself."

Watari put his hands on his chest. "Agh! I've been shot down! Send help! Oops, incoming."

In spite of herself, Tsubaki giggled. Watari read his cell and began typing. When he had finished, he said, "Now where were we? Oh, my coming over. You won't have to worry about a thing. I'll be the very soul of decency, all prim and proper, I swear."

-oOo-

"That's funny, all the lights are on," Tsubaki said as they got home. Conversation had lapsed into silence on the way, as Watari was very busy texting. _Probably his latest girl,_ she thought. She rang the doorbell, and her mom was the one who opened the door and let them in. Tsubaki spent a little time explaining the situation to her.

"Tsu-chan, remember what I said earlier, that I'd be a gentleman tonight?"

She nodded. "Why?"

The front doors of her house slid open, and they stepped inside. They removed their shoes and stepped into the genkan.

"If I weren't, your hubby'd probably kill me," Watari explained as they went to the adjoining room on the left side of the house, the one with the sliding doors that faced the 2-story building—now dark and silent—where her melancholic pianist lived.

"What on earth are you—" Tsubaki's voice cut off as Watari slid the door open. Inside the room, standing in front of a table laden with redolent food, was someone totally unexpected.

Kousei Arima, wearing his Okutsu vest and trousers, smiled sheepishly at her.

"H-hi, Tsubaki. Um, surprise."

Tsubaki stood motionless for a second or two, taking in the sight with eyes as round as saucers, fingers involuntarily covering the O of her lips. She looked around. Everyone was smiling at her; evidently she'd been the victim of a conspiracy, and the perpetrators were in the house along with her. Silently thanking their kindness, she walked towards Kousei and took his hands in her own.

"Welcome back!" said Tsubaki. "That was . . . this was quite unexpected." _Oh, really great, Tsubaki,_ she castigated herself. _You are_ such _a conversationalist._

"It was worth it, just to see the look on your face," Kousei said, looking at her affectionately and smiling in a way that sent Tsubaki's heart skittering. She wished she could answer fully, but knew he would not accept it, so she settled for a chaste kiss on his cheek. He smelled of trees and distant mountains and the wind off a moonlit lake.

Ryouta Watari filmed them for a few more moments, then switched his videocam off. This was one video he had no intention of letting Tsubaki destroy. _She certainly doesn't look like she's dealing with a troublesome little brother anymore,_ he thought, turning his attention to the mouth-watering dishes on the table.


	2. Freezing Winter

**Freezing Winter**

* * *

Fortune did not favor them, and it was a cold November holiday before Kousei went back home from Okutsu, and he and Tsubaki had a chance to see each other again. As they agreed on beforehand, they met on the outskirts of Ouji Park, and walked to a little café to have an afternoon snack. It was a whole lot more involved than simply going to the Patisserie Ueno, but in the wake of Kaori'spassing Kousei showed a tendency to avoid that place. He did pop in every so often to buy caneles, but Tsubaki never saw him eating those since she died.

"Why don't you go?" she had asked him some years before, when she herself had noticed this. It was May at that time. Both of them wore their respective school uniforms.

"Reasons," Kousei had answered, looking down at the sidewalk as they walked home together. She thought she understood, but she needed him to say the words, to avoid any misunderstanding.

"Kaori?"

"Mmm." He looked at her and smiled sadly. "You really know everything about me. Even when I don't know myself."

"Well, I hope you don't take what I'm about to say the wrong way," Tsubaki said, hoping that her words would come out right, "but I think you should go there more often."

"Why?"

"Well, um, you know—it might ease your pain." A car sped past them on the road. When Kousei didn't reply, she said to his back, "I didn't mean something bad by saying that." When he still didn't speak, she let out an exasperated sigh. "It's times like these I regret having revealed my feelings to you. Dummy Kousei."

Kousei shook his head, still gazing ahead. "I don't know if you'll believe this, or me, but I'm in no position to answer you, Tsubaki. I know you hate hearing that from me, so please don't make me say it again."

"And I'm someone not to be listened to because I have a vested interest in making you get over Kao-chan," said Tsubaki. "I just want to stamp my foot at how unfair life is."

"I bet if Kaori were here she'd totally agree with you about that." Kousei looked back at her, his eyes flashing.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I'm sorry." Kousei had that look of someone fumbling for things to say and the way to say them—at once frustrated, apprehensive, and abstracted. "Why me, Tsubaki?"

 _What is with this idiot?_ Tsubaki thought, closing her eyes. _Of course. Stupid, stupid. I'm so stupid. Just because I love him doesn't mean he loves me._ She took a deep breath and kicked him in the leg.

"Ow! What was that for?"

 _Why did I ever lose sight of that one truth?_ she asked, despairing. "When I get reincarnated," she yelled at Kousei, "I hope it's as a sledgehammer, so I can pound some sense into your head!" Then she ran away. Tsubaki was very good at running.

-oOo-

Two blocks away, when the tears were tracking down her cheeks and the perspiration was stinging her eyes, Tsubaki staggered to a stop. _That limp-wristed pianist wimp!_ she cursed, fishing her handkerchief out of her blazer pocket. _Stupid four-eyed kappa! I hate him!_

She spent a minute or two calming herself down and was surprised to see the object of her ire, breathing hard, turn the corner and begin walking toward her. The sweat was streaming down his face in rivulets.

"Wait a minute!" Kousei gasped as Tsubaki made to leave. "This is getting ridiculous. It's the third time in four weeks we've gotten angry at each other. Let's talk."

Tsubaki eyed him warily. "Alright, let's."

So they hammered out what they would later jokingly call the Arima-Sawabe Peace Accords. Basically, it meant that Kousei would have to listen to a lot to Tsubaki and Tsubaki would sign away her arms (and legs) and heretofore leave the shins, thighs, arms and entire nation of Kousei Arima unblemished by kicks, punches, pinches, and what have you. Kaori could not be discussed by the signatories without mutual consent. They left the subject of their feelings for one another undiscussed for the moment.

When the agreement was ratified, there was much rejoicing in the streets, and Kousei and Tsubaki found themselves dealing with each other more amicably. There was the little hiccup of the Watari-Keiko Guerilla War and the strain it put on their friendship for a while, but that's another story itself.

-oOo-

Two years rolled past. They had changed schools, met new people. Kousei was doing very well in his high school, what with the absence of softballs crashing into the music room and knocking him out. Tsubaki busied herself with the softball team and was very successful, being instrumental in leading them to a district championship second place finish. Watari, being Watari, added to his number of girlfriends to the point where Kousei and Tsubaki were sometimes roped into his schemes for getting to know them (or escaping their wrath). He also tried out for summer soccer camp and was got a reputation as a good choice for a team captain. Kousei's dad also got assigned to a position where he was able to spend more time with his only son than before.

But some things didn't change. Tsubaki still listened to the music from the next house, which drifted into their home in the evenings when Kousei was there. He was still alone; there seemed to be no balm in Gilead for one such as him.

-oOo-

As it was getting rather cold and windy, both of them were wearing coats: Kousei wore the toggle-buttoned, double-breasted one that Hiroko-sensei had gotten for him in Paris, while Tsubaki was dressed in a much shorter tan garment cinched by a belt across her waist. Plus a scarf: a very long, wide thing with transverse yellow, light blue, pink, and teal stripes that wound across her neck and splayed across her upper back like a starving python.

The cafe was quite cozy for its small space, wooden furniture and dark brown stained wood paneling complementing the off-white wall paint and curiously old-style brass lighting fixtures. Several landscapes hung from the walls and soft, almost inaudible music played from concealed speakers. They found a suitable table in a corner and sat down.

"We haven't had much time to see one another since you came back," Tsubaki remarked as she put her things on an empty chair beside hers.

"It was impossible," said Kousei. "You were right about me being piled with work. Along with my part-time job—" he shrugged "—there was barely enough time to breathe."

"So, what do you want to do later?" asked Tsubaki.

"How about a movie, then we go mall hopping? I haven't been to Shibuya in ages."

"Pardon. Here's your order," said a voice. They both looked up to see a bob-cut blond woman carrying a tray. She wore a blue apron embroidered with the name of the shop, and had a mole near the corner of her left eye.

After serving them she asked if they would like anything else. When they answered in the negative, she bowed and returned to what they guessed was the kitchen via a small door near the counter.

"You okay with your studies?" Kousei asked, sipping his cup of milky chocolate.

Tsubaki blinked. "I'm doing fine. Tell me, that lady who brought our food . . . . "

"What about her?"

"Did you notice anything odd?"

Kousei pushed his glasses up his nose. "Not really. Why?"

Lowering her voice, Tsubaki said, "She seemed to be looking a lot at you. Almost staring, like."

Kousei stole a glance at the kitchen, but all he could see were the silvered window panes hiding whoever was inside from view. "And I thought I was just imagining things. But there might be other reasons why she was looking at me like that."

"Such as?"

"I might look familiar and she was wondering where she saw me before?"

"Maybe. It must be this cold." Tsubaki took ahold of her fork and hungrily eyed the food on her plate. "Nothing a hot waffle and syrup can't fix."

While she was busy consuming the poor defenseless comestible, Kousei stopped her. "Hmm?"

"You've got a crumb on your cheek." He reached out and brushed the offending particle off. In return Tsubaki gave the tip of his retreating finger a friendly little bite.

"Hey," said Kousei, amused. "Stop that."

"Sorry. I just wanted to get my money's worth."

Kousei harrumphed. "You aren't sorry at all."

"Nope." Tsubaki grinned. "Want a taste?" She gestured at her plate.

"No thanks. Dad and I are cooking hotpot today, and I'm leaving enough space in my stomach for it."

"I didn't know your stomach was so tiny," Tsubaki teased. "I said a taste, not 'Here, eat the rest and there's seconds after that. And thirds.'"

"Oops." They shared a quiet laugh.

Kousei checked his watch. "Which reminds me, I need to do a little shopping before we go home."

"What about Shibuya?"

"It won't take long. Hey, instead of a movie, why not join us for dinner?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd say that. For some reason, I don't relish crowds today," Tsubaki admitted. "If your dad doesn't mind, that is."

"I'm sure he won't mind."

"Okay then. It's a done deal." Tsubaki grimaced. "Imagine going to the 109 lugging bags of groceries . . . ."

Kousei dug into his lemon pie. For some reason the volume of the speakers had discreetly increased. They heard a woman's voice singing.

 _Ah . . . ah, my truth.  
There is surely one truth that connects us to an eternity . . . ._

Someone called out from the kitchen, and a loud noise emanated from there, as if something heavy had fallen or been slammed shut. They looked at each other, as did the other patrons of the shop. When nothing else happened, the two shrugged and continued talking.

-oOo-

They had finished their meal and the speakers were playing jazz when Tsubaki spoke.

"Tell me about Europe. What was the most interesting place you visited there?"

"Oh, lots. The Conservatorie de Paris, Kronberg Academy, the Universität Mozarteum, Sibelius . . it's the birthplace of classical music."

"I meant places like the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Brandenburg Gate."

"Well, we got to see Legoland," said Kousei. "Koharu really liked it there."

"You went all the way to Europe to play with Legos?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a pleasure trip we took." Kousei smiled. "Now Nagi—you should have seen her when someone at the Academy invited her to play Chopin's Etude No.1 in E Minor Op. 25. It was just for fun, really, but she put in a creditable performance." Kousei leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I feel proud for her."

"How about you? Can Kousei Arima make it in Europe?" Tsubaki rested her head in her hands, placing her elbows on the table.

Kousei was quiet for a while. "Not the way I am now. It's much tougher there. As to getting a job there . . . I'd have to think it over."

"Why? Surely there are more opportunities there than here?" Inwardly though, Tsubaki was apprehensive at the thought of Kousei leaving, just as she had been when he had announced he was leaving for Okutsu College's attached high school.

"Tsubaki," laughed Kousei, "there are as many unemployed musicians there as here. I was thinking more of how lonely it would be to live in a place where I couldn't talk to anyone. Besides, I don't want to miss graduation."

"Graduation," Tsubaki repeated. "Hard to believe we were middle-schoolers without a care just a few years ago."

"It's the way things go. Have you decided on what you want to do?"

"I'm not sure. I was thinking of apprenticing for a couple of years. I think I'd like to enter the PT field."

Kousei smiled faintly. "I knew you'd say something like that."

"Well, pardon me for being transparent." Tsubaki stuck a perfunctory tongue out at him. "Seeing Kaori struggling to walk like she did, I felt that I couldn't have been happier if she had been able to regain the use of her legs. I wanted her to succeed. It was so unfair that the operation that should've helped her . . . . "

"That was my fault. If I hadn't pressured her into having it—"

"Chances are she'd still not be with us today," Tsubaki quietly interjected. "She also wanted it, didn't she? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Yeah," Kousei sniffed. He stood up. "Don't be hard on the person who helped end her already short life."

"Kousei . . . ."

The piano student slung his bag over his shoulder. "Well, we ought to hurry if we want to get home in time."

-oOo-

They shopped in silence, they rode the train in silence, they left the station in silence. By the time they were halfway down the block Kousei could no longer stand it and spoke.

"Tsubaki?" He looked at her. "I'm sorry."

"About what?" She gave him a brief look.

"For how I acted."

"You shouldn't give yourself such a hard time."

"I can't help it." Kousei shrugged. "It's like saying fifty wrong notes are acceptable in a competition."

"Then there isn't much else I can say, or anything that you'd want to hear from me, is there?" She gave him a peace sign. "Truce?"

Kousei nodded. "Truce. You know, there's got to be a way to make these ceasefires of ours more permanent."

"I can think of one way," Tsubaki said in a cloying voice, giving him the doe-eye treatment.

"I'm afraid to ask." Kousei wore a "what's wrong with you" look on his face.

"You can kiss me and you'll be so stunned we'll both stop fighting."

"Think of some other way."

"Then . . . how about I belt you one? You'll still be stunned and we'll still stop fighting," Tsubaki suggested helpfully.

Kousei grimaced, thinking of band-aids and loose teeth. "Something less painful, please."

They were near their homes when the brown-haired girl piped up, "I think I know the answer."

"What?"

"Every time we have a major spat we jump off Courage Bridge! Yeah, let's do it now!" Tsubaki laughed and started running down the road.

"H-Hey! Not with the beef and _hakusai_ , you're not! Come back here!" Kousei took off after her.

Channeled by the houses on either side of the street, the wind chased them along, gamboling around their feet like an excited puppy. Somewhere in the night a squeaky gate blew to and fro, to and fro. It sounded a bit like creaking laughter.

-oOo-

When the Tsubaki told her parents that she'd be eating dinner with their neighbors, they sent her along with some ingredients to add to the dish. Upon being invited by Kousei, they refused, however, saying that they had just finished eating dinner themselves.

"Have her back by 10, Arima-kun," Tsubaki's father said. "That girl is irresponsible when it comes to taking care of herself."

Kousei bowed. "Yes, sir."

-oOo-

"He said that? Sheesh! I'm almost eighteen, you'd think he'd cut me a little slack."

"Your dad's just looking out for you, Tsubaki-chan." The bespectacled man seated opposite her smiled and fished out a tofu cube from the pot in the middle of the table.

"Ah! Yes, of course."

"Dad, no more tofu," admonished Kousei.

Kousei's father smiled serenely and dropped the tofu in his bowl. "Just like you're just looking out for Kousei, right?" he addressed Tsubaki.

"Yes, Uncle."

"Has he been behaving himself?"

"Dad!" complained Kousei.

"O-of course!" Tsubaki answered emphatically. Spots of color grew on her cheeks.

Takahiko Arima laughed. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot there. Thank you for being his friend, Tsubaki-chan. Friends were exactly what he needed after Kaori's passing."

"I tried my best, Uncle."

For a moment the elder Arima seemed to scrutinize Tsubaki. "I'll take care of the dishes," he told them. "Just leave them in the sink. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll catch a ride on the Night Express. I have to leave early tomorrow."

"Good night," Tsubaki called after him as he ascended the stairs, shooting Kousei a puzzled look.

"He sleeps and wakes very early," Kousei explained. "By the time I come down, he's usually left."

"Ah."

Kousei picked up some of the tableware and utensils. As he headed for the kitchen, Tsubaki asked, "You're not seriously going to leave all those dishes for your father to wash, are you? We can have this place cleaned up in half an hour."

"But—"

"No buts. Do you have an apron? Gimmie."

"Alright, alright. But finish eating first." Kousei chuckled at her eagerness.

-oOo-

The last of the plates had been dried and stacked, the tabletop burner put away, and the stars hung out in the sky to decorate the night. Kousei and Tsubaki sat on the front steps, watching them wheel in the firmament as they had for the past millions of years.

"They're so pretty," said Tsubaki.

"They sure are."

Tsubaki turned to him. "You know the story of The Little Prince?"

Kousei nodded. A large-eared, green-eyed cat appeared like a moving shadow and sat on their fence, gazing at them with interest but keeping its distance.

"When I see that—"she pointed upward "—I feel like I'm the flower. All alone on my asteroid, with only four thorns to protect me. "

Kousei smiled and adjusted his glasses. "What I'd like to know is if there's a sheep."

Tsubaki thought. "There is, but it's a very strange sort of sheep. Even if it knows the thorns are just for show, it refuses to eat the flower."

"Maybe it loves the flower," Kousei said. "Because they're the only two living things on the asteroid and without it, the sheep would feel lonely."

Tsubaki turned away. "That's one smart sheep."

If Tsubaki had just been looking at Kousei at that moment, she would have seen him looking at her with eyes filled with sad understanding. "Would you come inside with me?"

Tsubaki nodded, and Kousei helped her to her feet. Leading her up to the music room, switched the lamp on, he removed some books from a chair, and had her sit down. Then he himself sat in front of the grand piano that dominated the room.

"Marchioness Sawabe," he said, "this is for you." Flexing his fingers and shaking his hands to warm them up, he began to play, first the second movement of Beethoven's _Pathetique_ , then Chopin's dreamy Etude Op. 25 No. 1. The last piece he played was an abbreviated Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2. When the last note died away, he found his gaze alighting on Tsubaki, sitting in her chair in delicate repose, her honey-brown eyes focused on him.

"That was beautiful. Thank you." Tsubaki blinked away in upwelling of tears. The loveliness of the music, along with listening to it being played for her by someone she held precious, someone she had prayed would one day be as he was now, had touched her, filling her with emotions that she dared not express for fear of being rejected. But surely, surely what she felt in her heart was also what she saw in his eyes?

Kousei got up and made his way to Tsubaki's chair. He reached out and took hold of her hands, signaling with gentle pressure on her hands for her to stand up. She noted how warm his touch was, how near his body.

Then he closed his eyes and bent down.

Tsubaki's eyes were wide with surprise as his face came closer and closer. Reflexively she tried to back away, but Kousei moved his hands and held her wrists instead, capturing her in a gossamer prison of her own feelings.

Outside the wind sobbed and tossed debris against the houses. Startled, the cat leapt down from the fence and disappeared into some red-berried nandina bushes on the opposite side of the street.


	3. Freezing Winter II

**Freezing Winter II**

* * *

 _People always talk like that... with clouded eyes and tainted lips... even though the truth is always within them._

 _Vampire Princess Miyu_

The teenager sat in front of the piano, playing, playing and remembering memories he had left untouched for fear of the emotions they awoke in him. The dimly lit music room resonated with the languorous notes of Fredric Chopin's _Ballade No. 1 in G Minor, Op. 23_. In its sounds he found escape; true, it was a painful escape, but it was a better alternative than imagining Kaori's name, graven in white letters on the family gravestone.

 _Kaori_ , he begged. _Kaori, please help me. I don't know what to do. I could kick myself for doing what I'm doing to Tsubaki. But you—you know the truth, don't you? It's silly, but I still love you. I can't do what she wants me to do—it'd be a lie. And yet I can't do what I must. What a terrible person I am!_

Thrusting the heaviness in his heart aside, Kousei carried on playing. No ghost appeared in the soundscape he built, no sweet violin shared the weighty tumult of the music, lifted the triumphant glissando of resolution from the crucible of his emotions to cool in the starry sky. And when the last chords were played, no answers were forthcoming in the silent darkness of the music room.

-oOo-

Kousei thought he had never seen Tsubaki look lovelier than she did that December night. She wore a plum-patterned kimono decorated with a pair of Japanese storks on one side. A silver cord secured her pale yellow obi. Her brown hair had been styled so that it was a lustrous globe instead of the rough-and-ready mop that she usually wore.

He helped her out of the car in front of Lilina Hall, where he was taking part in a Christmas benefit concert series. Tonight was the penultimate performance—tomorrow it would be the twenty-third of December, and he and his dad planned to go skiing.

At Lilina Hall they met up with Watari, Tsubaki's mom, and Kaori's parents. Her dad greeted him with a hearty hug and thundering pat on the shoulder that fair knocked him down on his knees.

"Arima-kun!" he said with a wide grin and a firm handshake, "long time no see. I hope you don't mind us being in the audience."

"Not at all," Kousei reassured him. "In fact, thank you for coming."

"I'd like to see what about you got my daughter so excited she gave up studying the piano." He leaned forward and whispered into Kousei's ear, "And come see us as soon as you can, okay? Right after the performance, if possible."

Kousei nodded. He turned to Tsubaki.

"You look very nice."

"Thanks," she replied shyly. "I was kind of worried it'd be too loud."

"No, no, it looks just right for you."

"You don't look too bad yourself," she said to him. Tonight he was wearing a back tailed coat and a bowtie. "Kousei, I—"

"Looking good, my man!" Watari suddenly came from behind and half-strangled him with his right arm. He glanced at his two friends and a sly smile grew on his face. "Oho, am I interrupting something? Like a talk between lovers, maybe?"

"Hey! Don't muss my hair."

"Watari, if you so much as put a crease in Kousei's suit, I will personally drop a potted plant on your head."

Watari pretended to be aghast. "How violent! How crude!" he said, putting his hand over his heart. "It doesn't suit you at all, Tsubaki. Not when you're looking so cute." He linked arms with her and flashed his trademark heartbreaker smile. "Doooon't worry, Kousei. I'll take good care of her while you're up on stage." Then they both gave him a thumbs-up sign.

"Good luck, Kousei!"

The prodigy bowed to the assembled group. "I need to go now," he announced, "or the concert organizer will have my head."

A chorus of well-wishing phrases accompanied him out of the lobby. Watari watched him go.

"How are you two getting along?" he asked Tsubaki _sotto voce_ , not looking at her. "You're really into him, aren't you?"

"I . . . I can take care of myself, Watari."

He paused to consider, giving the appearance of watching the people building up in the lobby. "Is it all from your end, or is he giving you back anything?"

Tsubaki looked unhappily at him. "Sometimes he can be so sweet, but at other times . . . he looks like he's lost and scared, and I don't know how to react when that happens. Watari, I honestly don't know . . . it's been three years, and I don't know if I can just keep on going like this. I know it's selfish, but . . . ."

"Is he worth it, Tsubaki?"

Tsubaki thought about it and nodded. "Nao-chan asked me the same question long ago. My answer hasn't changed."

"Then all I can tell you is to just hang in there. He can't be insensitive to the way he's making you feel—that's just not our Kousei." _But what is his problem, then?_ "Didja ever consider just confronting him?"

She shook her head. "Once is enough. I don't have the guts to do it again."

 _Poor Tsu-chan,_ Watari thought. _Being so near to him, yet so far? If I were you, I'd get as far away as I could._

"Oh, it's not so bad," she said, as if divining his thoughts. "We have lots of fun together. I like his company, and he doesn't say no to mine. But maybe things are meant to be this way."

Watari snorted. "Yeah, right. And if I leave a soccer ball in front of a goal it'll kick itself there. What if I said I had a plan for getting Kousei to admit what he feels about you?"

"Oh?"

"But I'll need your help." He paused. "And no dropping plants on my head."

-oOo-

It turned out that Kousei was keeping some secrets of his own, and that the concert wasn't just about playing music. The event began with a scenario in which Kousei, blond-haired Takeshi Aiza, and Emi Igawa (dressed casually) were stuck in a house on Christmas Eve by a snowstorm along with several children. The children were as cute as buttons and the three found it hard not to smile as the children plied them with questions about the holiday, music, and other things.

"Onee-san," said one boy about ten years old, "why do you like music so much?"

"It's a way for me to express things," Emi replied as she sat on the piano bench. "What's your favorite TV show?"

"Super Robot Z-Chogokin," said the boy.

"What does the music during the opening sound like? How does it make you feel?"

"It makes me feel like blasting off into outer space and destroying all the bad guys!"

"See? I feel the same thing!"

"You wanna go fight bad guys?" General laughter from the audience.

"No, no."

"Of course not, kid," Takeshi piped up. "But she's going to blast off all right if you keep saying stuff like that."

Emi shot him a look, and Takeshi sank behind the grand piano dominating the set. "So scary," he told the audience. More laughter.

"I like to play music because I like creating feelings. I like expressing those feelings. " She patted the instrument beside her. "And I like playing the piano. So do Arima-san and Aiza-san."

"Are both of them your _boyfriends?_ " asked one precocious girl in pigtails and jumper.

"No, they're not." The whole thing was scripted, of course, but Emi still managed to be slightly embarrassed, her makeup a turning a darker shade, because her friends were in the audience and they would never let her live this one down.

"Do you think our parents will be able to reach us tonight?" asked the boy who had talked to Emi. "There's a lot of snow falling."

"Ah, if you keep worrying like that they'll never come," said Takeshi. He motioned for Emi to move, and he sat on the vacated piano seat. "Let's play something to keep ourselves from worrying, okay?"

"Yeah," Kousei agreed. He was standing in front of a Christmas tree piled with presents.

"Okay!" Takeshi lifted the piano lid and stretched his fingers. "Do you know this song? Sing along if you want to!" He began to play. " _Minna atsumare! Onara taisou no jikan da yo! Onara taisou Oh—_ "

"Hold on!" shouted Emi. "Are you sure we can play that here?"

"Relax, Igawa-san," said Kousei, "who's going to hear us?"

"Oh." Emi put a finger on her lips. "For some reason I forgot we're stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of the boonies." Her deadpan delivery elicited giggles from the audience.

"Did ya?" Takeshi asked incredulously, provoking more laughter. "That's kind of hard to forget. If I only had some sheet music, maybe I could play something to keep everyone's minds off us being stuck here."

Kousei spotted something inside one of the opened boxes. He bent down and came up with a piece of paper, smoothing it out as he went and handed it to Takeshi. "Um, I found this," he said. "They were probably using it to pack gifts."

"How convenient," commented Takeshi. He put the sheet on the music rack and began playing, but it was a fast, strange-sounding _galop_ with descending notes until he looked hard at the page, flipped it over, and replayed it, revealing that the piece was in fact the William Tell Overture. The audience laughed. Even his teacher, Takayanagi, who was seated in the audience, managed a fleeting smile. He thought the whole thing was embarrassing, but if Takeshi was having fun, then who was he to stop him? Besides, the humor was a refreshing change to the tension that characterized competitions.

"Anyway," Takeshi addressed the children, "even without any sheet music, I can play something that might relax us. But for it to work, you have to close your eyes. Close your eyes. Not you, Arima!" Takeshi covered his face with a hand as a crestfallen Kousei scratched his head and bowed by way of apology. "Sheesh."

Then when everyone was ready, he launched into Chopin's _Etude No. 1 Op. 25_. The deft arpeggios radiated out into the hall, and more than one spectator could almost _hear_ a harp playing instead of the piano, the waves of notes carrying them into their own private worlds, as Takeshi's fingers, then hands, raced up and down the keyboard.

There was enthusiastic applause when Takeshi had finished. "That was awesome, Onii-san!" exclaimed the little girl who had asked Emi if Takeshi and Kousei were her boyfriends. "I wish I could do something as cool as that."

"If you want to, it's easy." Takeshi tweaked the child's nose, and as they had in previous concerts, Kousei and Emi looked at each other with the same guarded "you've got to be kidding me" expression on their faces. "You just have to love what you're doing."

"I have an idea, kids," said Emi, striding to the piano from her place beside Kousei. Takeshi vacated the seat and Emi seated herself. "I'm going to play something, and while I'm playing it, make sure to think of your parents with all your might, okay?"

"Will your music help?"

"Maybe. Call them to us with all your might, okay?"

The children nodded. Emi began to play _Claire de Lune_. The slow quietude of the music seemed to open a small haven of calm, sending forth a message that even if it was dark and perilous outside, everything would be all right. They would be found.

Submerged in the music, Kousei recalled the time in France when he was lost and alone, wishing with all his heart that Hiroko-sensei would find him even though he had somehow strayed into the countryside, all the while getting drenched by the misty drizzle that was falling like a tattered veil over the landscape. Then, by some miracle the car that had been put at their service found him, braking violently as it passed him by, scattering gravel, then backing up. Hiroko-sensei had jumped out of the car and yelled at him, but it was clear to him that she had only done that out of worry. Ordering her charge inside, she climbed in after him and fussed over him, drying his hair with a towel she had brought along in her go-to kit, telling him to remove his wet jacket and change his shirt.

"Hiroko-sensei?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm alright now. Thanks." Kousei smiled at her. He was embarrassed and didn't know what else to do.

"Aaah," the master pianist said, seeming to calm down. She brushed that ever-present lock of hair off her face. "If Saki ever found out I'd misplaced her son, she'd probably haunt me." She closed her eyes and remained looking out the window at the wet world as the car sped back down the way it came.

-oOo-

At the somber ending of Emi's performance came a knock on the front door. Kousei went and opened it. That's when the mongoose came in.

Rather, it was someone wearing a mongoose suit. And as other adults came into the room, the children jumped up and ran to them with exclamations of joy and happiness.

"What did I tell you, eh? Here they are," said one heavyset newcomer to another. "It was a smart move for them to stay put rather than try and reach the road."

"You found us!" said Emi, shaking hands with none other than Yuriko Ochiai, her teacher, who had agreed to join the show only because of the high-caliber names involved.

"I _knew_ that I heard someone playing Debussy," Ochiai-sensei said, smiling at Emi.

The person wearing the mongoose costume pulled off its head. Out came the face of a young woman, with disheveled hair and quirky lips but with that glow that came from being in love. " _Mukyaaa!_ " she exhaled. "It was so stuffy in there!"

"Mama!" The little pigtailed girl jumped up into the arms of the woman. Being in a costume, of course, rendered her clumsy, so girl and mom tumbled backward into the pile of presents, crushing most of them. But no one seemed to mind.

"Why are you wearing that, Oba-san?" the boy who had talked with Takeshi before asked her.

"Well, um, this was the warmest thing I could wear," answered the young woman. "My husband told me to pack light, so I didn't include anything for cold weather," she said loudly, raising her head, as she aimed her message beyond the set walls to the darkened orchestra section on stage. "And he wasn't generous enough to pay for my airplane baggage overload. His orchestra was more important!"

"I don't see how you could count a grand piano as 'carry-on luggage,'" returned a droll voice from the shadows. There was roaring laughter, some of which came from onstage.

"Well, you could've found a way!" the woman fired back. "Just for that, I'm not talking to you ever again . . . until about ten minutes from now." The woman turned to the audience, winked, waved, and exited carrying the girl, squeezing through the house door before she realized that she had left her mongoose head behind. She shrugged and said, "To the bus!"

"To the bus!" the child echoed, and they exited stage left.

In the end it was only Takeshi and Kousei who were left onstage, and the lights dimmed somewhat, leaving them framed in a yellow-tinged spotlight. Kousei softly played Erik Satie's _Gymnopedie No. 2_ as Takeshi first tried to set the room to rights, then waited for Kousei to finish so they could depart.

"Hey, time to leave." Even in the midst of a roomful of people, the silence seemed to settle on the stage like a shroud.

"I know."

"You've been kinda quiet all this time," Takeshi commented, walking to stand beside his one-time hero. "Something wrong?" This particular sequence was requested by Kousei from the stage director, and planned jointly with Takeshi's cooperation. Emi wouldn't go along with it, though she never said why.

"No. Nothing's wrong. I'm just glad that we all will be with our friends and family in a couple of hours. Not everyone is that lucky." A puff of fake snow issued past the windows. Kousei stopped playing. "We'd better go."

Takeshi turned. "Yeah. Come on." He was quickly out the door, since he and the other young competition winners had to change from their casual getups back to coat and tie.

Kousei stood up and looked at the audience, who appeared as nothing but black shadows in the blinding spotlight. "Merry Christmas to everyone," he said, with a wave of the hand. "And to Kaori."

 _Kaori. Kaori. Kaori._ For the fraction of a heartbeat the name seemed to echo in the hall.

A black cat emerged from underneath the piano. _Dearest Kousei,_ it spoke without speaking, staring at him with unblinking blue eyes, _you needn't look so far with your heart for her._

A wave of nausea hit Kousei with the force of a punch to the gut, and he swayed. From somewhere off to his left he heard the high, thin wail of a stringed instrument and wondered what was going on. He imagined the black shadows whispering things like "He can't take it, he's finally cracked" and "What is wrong with him?" Weak-kneed and with the nausea still coursing through his system, he had just enough presence of mind to make his way to the door and to the wings, where a stagehand waited to bring him back to the dressing room and Hiroko-sensei.

Kousei covered his mouth with a hand. "Toilet," he choked at the stagehand, who, alarmed, brought him to the nearest one. He made it to a sink before he vomited.

-oOo-

In her seat Tsubaki sat motionless, stunned. Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes; her chest felt tight, and she couldn't breathe. She quickly got up and made her way out of the hall, followed closely by Watari, who had been seated one chair away. She stopped just outside the hall doors and blinked her eyes.

"You okay?" Watari asked solicitously.

"What does it look like?" she snapped, not facing him. She felt a tap and turned to see him laying his handkerchief on her right shoulder. She took it and dabbed her eyes.

"If it's any consolation, this event's just begun," Watari said.

"So what? What are you trying to say?"

"Just that I think you should stick around. I know you must feel shocked and all, but really, it's Kousei just telling us he's missing Kao-chan. I don't think he meant to demean you or anything like that. Personally I don't think he should have done what he did, but my opinion's not important." He looked her in the eye. "Yours is."

It took a while for her to mull it over, but Tsubaki finally said, "I think I'm okay now. Let's go back in." Watari, however, noted that some of the happy light she had had in her eyes before had dimmed somewhat.

-oOo-

Shortly before Watari and Tsubaki left the hall, when Kousei was still onstage, things were also amiss in the darkened orchestra, in the violinists' section.

"Mine, what did you just do?" hissed the concertmaster, a dark and handsome guy named Takahashi.

"I just thought it would be appropriate, that's all," answered the blond, crew-cut man he had addressed, "seeing as how we heard of that boy's story during rehearsals. After all, R-S doesn't do things by halves."

"Yes, if you want to act like an ass, you go all out," snapped the pretty sloe-eyed woman beside him, brushing her shoulder-length black hair from her face. Her wide, thin-lipped mouth was set in a tense line.

"But Kiyora . . . ."

"Keep quiet, or you'll get us both in trouble. What's done is done."

Someone stepped in front of them, and they both looked up to see their conductor looking down at them with eyes that glinted even in the shadows.

"Shut up, both of you. It's almost time. Focus on your music. And Mine, I want to see you during the intermission. Got it?"

Ryuutarou Mine gulped, and as their conductor went back to his podium, he reflexively tweaked the earring he wore. Kiyora Miki reached over and gave him a tug on his sleeve.

 _Ah, Kiyora, you're such a good person,_ he thought, leaning in her direction. No doubt she was going to give him words of encouragement. Certainly he, ace violinist of reconstituted R-S Oke, deserved it for all his hard work managing the company.

She smiled impishly at his expectant face, and her warm breath caressed his skin as she whispered close to his cheek, "See you at the hanging."

-oOo-

It seemed like such a short time, although in reality the concert had gone on for two hours. Tsubaki lost count of the pieces played, the composers named, although they weren't that important to her; still, she tried to associate sounds to names, just so that she might appear less of a philistine to Kousei—and, admittedly, to herself.

Takeshi and Emi had come and gone, the former playing Alkan's _Le Chemin de Fer_ in D Minor, resembling nothing more than a out-of-control locomotive with blond hair issuing from its smokestack while careening along a rickety set of rails as he played the incredibly fast etude. The latter played a powerful, pounding arrangement by Agosti of Stravinsky's _The Firebird Suite_. One could almost see Emi's eyes glowing with intense concentration, and at the end she had to take a deep breath because she had fallen in with the music and felt a sort of alien anger at nothing. It disappeared when she stopped playing. She took a bow and immediately left the stage after thanking the conductor, however, the skirt of her black strapless dress swishing around her ankles as she walked off. Takeshi, of course, gave her a wide berth.

Several other guests performed other pieces. One pianist named Rui Son played a duet with the mongoose lady. A choir sang Schnittke's somber _O Master Of All Living Things_. Then came an intermission.

Tsubaki opted to stay in her seat as the rest of the people with her left the hall. _Where is Kousei?_ she wondered. He hadn't shown himself since he left the stage during the Christmas episode.

Something cold skated fleetingly across the back of her neck, and Tsubaki yelped and sat up. She looked back to see a grinning Kousei sitting in the seat behind her, his finger still extended, pointed at her.

"You rat!" she hissed, attempting to bat him with the program guide. Yet she couldn't help but smile. _Why?_ she faulted herself. _Why do I forgive you so easily? When I see you happy, I'm happy. And yet all the while I know whose name you spoke on the stage._

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Kousei.

"Mmmh. It almost makes me want to learn to play something."

"So why don't you?"

"I've got other things to do." Tsubaki looked sidelong at Kousei. "Like wonder if I should get angry at you for thinking of Kao-chan."

"I . . . ." Kousei was flabbergasted. "Is that something to be angry about? I just wanted people to remember her—especially since her parents are here."

Tsubaki pouted. "You just don't understand a girl's heart, Arima."

Kousei was silent for a long while. Finally he said, "We need to talk about this. But for now, will you please listen to me when it's my turn on stage? It's very important."

"O-okay." Tsubaki didn't particularly feel like listening. But she was here to support Kousei. It was no good to break the Peace Accords over a simple mention of Kaori's name—even if that act might signal deeper, more troubled waters that Tsubaki anticipated probing only with trepidation.

-oOo-

The performance after the intermission finished, and there was appreciative applause.

"That was _Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto Number Two Opus Eighteen,_ " announced one of the two emcees, an amber-eyed young lady with fiery red hair, clutching her wireless microphone with nervous enthusiasm. "Next, we have the last of our junior concert participants, a music student, the winner of the Eastern Japan Music Competition. Ladies and gentlemen, Kousei Arima." Kousei appeared in his tailed suit and walked to the center of the stage, acknowledging the orchestra and bowing to the audience before sitting down at the piano amidst polite applause. "Tonight he will play for the very first time a composition of his own, entitled _Camellias in the Summer Garden._ " She spoke as if confiding to the audience. "You know, he told me he was dedicating this to someone who's right in this hall, watching. I wish I were that lucky person!"

"Now, now, Kahoko-senpai," said the other emcee, a blond girl with an outdoorsy air about her and a somewhat nasal voice, "you're already surrounded by gorgeous guys at school."

"But . . . no one's ever written a song for me!"

"I'm sure they will, one of these days." The girl smiled. "Ladies and gentlemen, Kousei Arima, _Camellias in the Summer Garden._ "

As the music swelled into life, propelled by the talent of the R-S Orchestra, Tsubaki was surprised for the second time that night. She bit her lips and watched, and listened. When the music ended eleven minutes later, a solitary tear, unbidden, trickled down her cheek.

-oOo-

After the concert Kousei hurried to the lobby, having said farewell to Hiroko-san and Koharu backstage. He wanted to meet Tsubaki, and that meant more to him than any after-concert party thrown by the organizers. He emerged into the yellowish light and saw her together with Watari. He was holding her by the shoulders and lowering his face towards hers.

What happened next stopped him dead in his tracks. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. And Watari? Watari, of all people? Tsubaki practically confessed to him so many years ago; everyone knew how she felt, even Kaori mentioned it in her parting letter. So why was she . . . why were they . . . .

In the press of people crowding Lilina Hall's lobby, their gazes happened to meet. Kousei averted his eyes and quickly made his way down the stairs to the door, ignoring Takeshi's call for a final group picture together with Emi, the mongoose lady, and her husband.

Even the normally stern Emi looked perturbed. "Please forgive him, Chiaki-sensei. Arima's not quite himself."

The tall, lanky man with the unruly black hair nodded. As their photo was being taken, a heated discussion was occurring between two childhood friends.

"What was that for?" Tsubaki snapped at Watari, shaking his hand off her arm.

"The plan," replied the soccer player quietly.

"I didn't ask you to kiss me!" Tsubaki stormed past him out into the cold evening, but her kimono made fast walking difficult.

Watari watched Tsubaki step through the door, watched it shut behind her. "I know."

-oOo-

Kousei was caught in an agony of indecision. He didn't want to face Tsubaki now, but neither did he want to cause trouble for his dad, his friends, nor his guests. He stood in front of the Lilina Hall entrance, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, staring out at the night sky.

He heard the door open behind him, and the quick clicking of footwear on the pebbled pavement.

"Kousei, please let me explain," said a voice. "Watari and I, we thought up a plan to make you jealous so you'd be forced to tell how you felt about me. But that was all before the concert—I was just about to tell Watari to knock it off when he did what you saw. I'm sorry I've caused so much trouble."

"I don't have the right to complain," Kousei said. "You're free to do what you want."

"Kousei . . . ."

Kousei looked over his shoulder. "I have something to apologize for, Tsubaki, and I guess this is the right time to say it." He sought for and captured her gaze. "Even if Kaori's gone, I still can't stop thinking about her. It's why I couldn't tell you . . . what you wanted to hear. I also thought—music keeps on taking everyone I love away from me, so I thought if I answered you, you might . . . go away as well. Forgive me."

Tsubaki closed her eyes. "I knew it was something like that. That's why you always had that smile."

"What smile?"

"The one where you look like you're going to cry." Still with her eyes closed, Tsubaki asked, "Do you want me to get out of your life?"

"Do you want to?"

"Answer me first."

"I'll be terribly selfish and say no. It makes me happy when you're around. But I don't want to hurt you more."

"Getting hurt is up to me, Kousei, not you. If you need me, you know where to find me." She stepped away from him and prepared to go back inside.

"Tsubaki."

"Hmm?"

"I care for you a lot," Kousei said quietly. "Don't ever forget that."

Tsubaki thought of _Camellias in the Summer Garden._ "I won't. Thank you for the gift. You were very kind." Then she went back into the lobby, leaving Kousei with his thoughts.


	4. Reborn in Spring

**Reborn in Spring**

 **I: La fille aux cheveux de lin**

* * *

The cold wind blew at Kousei as he crossed the threshold of the cemetery. It had snowed last night, and a thin layer of white covered the ground, shrouded the leafless trees, and left the grave markers crowned in white. He wore his warmest jacket and protected his head with a tube hat, rolled up so it came to rest just above his eyes.

He searched the markers until he came upon the one he wanted. On the Miyazono family marker, two of the names were still red—these were Kaori's parents'. Only her name was stenciled in white.

Despite the weather, Kousei spent a little time tidying up the grave. When he was through he laid his little paper plate of canelés on the altar and stood back, praying. He wondered if Kaori would've scolded him and told him to do it on his knees. He dismissed the thought _._ Free from the cruel terror of her mortality, he guessed she'd have forgiven him. If only he could've met her in an April without death nipping at her heels, like a relentless wolf harrying a tiring deer floundering in the snow . . . .

 _Haikei, Miyazono Kaori-sama. You were a terrible person. Selfish, manic, crazy, overbearing._ He smiled as he imagined her glaring at him. _It's kind of strange that I'm still visiting someone three years gone. But you can't stop me from coming, can't you? So there. Just kidding! Don't haunt me, I have enough trouble going to sleep as it is! I'm fine, basically. Except Tsubaki and I are not talking nowadays. It's her fault. I gave her something I poured my heart into, and she repaid me with mistrust—it rankles, even now._ _It's kind of lonely, though. I can't even greet her._

 _Remember Emily, the violinist I told you about? She's coming to Japan this March for a short holiday. I don't mind telling you of this crazy idea I have of playing piano under the cherry trees with her on her cello. I wonder how noisy flower viewing will be this year._

 _Speaking of playing, I've also been selected to play on a classical CD. It's just on one track, but you know what that means—practice, practice, practice. Oh, and I'm playing at the Budokan because said CD is a merchandise tie-in to a concert. At the Budokan! Can you imagine that?_ He looked at the marker. _I wish I could play there with a girl in a white dress, with a flower hairclip and a violin . . . . Honestly, if there's anybody who deserves to be on that stage, it's you._

-oOo-

"Excuse me for disturbing you on such a day," Kousei apologized, bowing to Kaori's parents. "I couldn't drop by before, I was so busy."

"It's okay, it's okay." Kaori's dad whacked him on a shoulder. "Come with me. Dear, hold the fort while I bring Arima-kun to Kaori's room."

The thin woman with the somewhat care-worn face nodded and smiled.

Mr. Miyazono went up the stairs to a wooden door at the end of corridor. A sign hung from the door. It read "Kawori's Room." The confectioner unlocked this door and opened it.

"You've never been in here," he said. Kousei shook his head, gazing in wonder at another aspect of Kaori's life revealed to him. Her bed. The small, neat writing desk. A clothes tree. A dresser drawer filled with the trinkets that girls seemed to adore. Lots of cardboard and plastic boxes stacked here and there.

"We're packing Kaori's things, Arima-kun. Kaori had quite a lot of stuff, and considering how important you were to her, we'd like you to pick out one memento to take home." Kousei started to refuse, but Mr. Miyazono insisted. "You're not leaving until you get something. Or is this your way of telling us you'd rather be done with her?" Mr. Miyazono thundered, looming large over the 17-year-old.

"W-what? No, no, never. Sir." Kousei knew the man wouldn't touch a single hair on his head, but he was still a scary person when he wanted to be.

"I know you were someone special to her, Kousei. We would be quite hurt if you don't get something." The patissier paused. "I imagine Kaori would be as well."

"Well . . . ." Kousei reconsidered. "If I could name something, it would be her violin."

"What?"

"Am I asking too much? I understand, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to offend, it just came to mind, that's all—"

Mr. Miyazono raised a hand and pondered the matter. "No, I think it's a good idea. The spirit of my daughter lives on in her violin. You're the closest thing she had to a soulmate." He looked around. "Now where did I put it . . . ."

He searched and searched, but couldn't find the instrument. Drawers were yanked out of their recesses, cabinets were flung open, boxes were unpacked and their contents laid on the floor. Mrs. Miyazono even came up to help, but after an hour's exploration the instrument remained missing.

"Well, this is mighty strange. And embarrassing." Mr. Miyazono smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid you must choose something else."

Kousei had already spotted something he wanted. From a picture frame on the dresser he removed a small picture of Kaori, dressed in casual clothes, smiling with some girls in front of an oblate building.

"This is enough, Mr. Miyazono," he said, showing him the photograph.

"Ah. Her trip to visit her cousins. That was—what, five years ago?"

 _She's still has her old hairstyle,_ thought Kousei. _That smile—she looks so happy._

"Are you alright, Kousei?"

"Hmm? Sorry, sir. I was just thinking something unimportant."

Mr. Miyazono smiled.

Carefully tucking the photo in a pocket of his day planner, Kousei left, refusing an offer of a treat. "You've been very kind, and I don't wish to impose on you any more," he told them, bowing. As he went back home, however, the apparent loss of Kaori's violin disturbed him greatly. So greatly, in fact, that he had a difficult time sleeping that night, wondering why it might have been misplaced, creating reasons that became more fantastical until he dozed off and found himself in a dream, standing on a nocturnal seashore, looking at a Kaori who wore her old glasses but let her pale hair hang free, as he had always seen her do so. She stood amid a cloud of fireflies, holding the missing violin in her hands. Then she looked at him, smiled, and vanished twinkling into the darkness.

-oOo-

 _Tak._

 _Thok._

Tsubaki looked up from her desk, where she had been finishing a piece of over-the-holidays homework her school was so fond of giving.

 _Tak._ It sounded like something hitting the window pane. Tsubaki got up and peered out of her closed blinds, catching Kousei at his own window about to throw something her way. She opened her curtains (after checking to make sure she was presentable).

"What do you want?"

Kousei lowered his arm. "To apologize."

"Why should I forgive you?"

Kousei frowned. "As I recall, _you_ were supposed to be the one who committed a transgression."

Tsubaki winced. "Well, so did you."

"Maybe I did." Kousei shifted on his feet. "It's unfair you threw everything you had at me. Feelings, I mean. I don't know how to reply, to be honest. You usually kick me or say something smarmy before I can think of anything."

"But we signed the treaty and I've stopped. Mostly."

"Tsubaki . . . ah, I want to talk but I don't want to broadcast it like this. Meet you in front?"

"Ooh, sounds serious. Okay. Just give me a few minutes."

It was cold outside. Kousei stood with his hands in his pockets until Tsubaki came out. She wore her tan jacket and scarf, track pants, and canvas-topped shoes.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said, shivering as she shut the gate. "Brrr. Let's go to that corner coffee shop."

"I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"It's okay. I'm almost done with homework. You?"

Kousei shook his head. "I've got some long-term ones. I'm sure I'll be finished with them before school starts again, though."

"Need help?"

"No, not really. 'Bout you?"

"Nope." They entered the shop and ordered from a kindly woman whose stooped posture and slowness of movement suggested many winters. As they waited, Tsubaki clasped her hands on the table.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Us."

"What about us?" A serious expression stole over her face. "Last time I had the distinct feeling that 'us' was a thing of the past."

"That's not it . . . " Kousei tsked. "It's hard for me to explain."

"Just say what you want to say. I promise not to make a scene."

Kousei took several deep breaths. "You know you mean a lot to me," he began.

"You already told me that at the concert," Tsubaki said, her heart skipping. Was he saying that because he was about to tell her they should stop seeing each other? Or that he already had someone else, or something just as dreadful? "I forgot to tell Watari our plan was called off on account of epiphany. Sorry, Kousei. It's just that sometimes you're . . . so stuck in the past, so hard to read."

"What am I, a book?" Kousei tried to joke.

"Yes," Tsubaki answered. "With really small print smudged by tears."

"Tsubaki," Kousei said, staring intensely at the table. "Like I said, I care for you a lot. But I'm scared of . . . opening a relationship with you now. I'm scared I won't be able to treat you right. I'm also worried that . . . ah, it's so hard to say it!"

The old woman came and served them their order.

Tsubaki stirred her latte. "Just say it. I promise I won't get angry or scream or anything." She looked at him. "The only thing I understand now is that being friends is safe, and you don't want to mess that up."

"Well . . . I-if we push through with this, I'm-I'm afraid you're going to hit me a lot more," said Kousei, averting his eyes.

"What are you talking ab—" Kousei's gaze drifted downward, and Tsubaki realized what he meant. Her face flushed a bright red. She sank a little lower in her seat, self-consciously brought an arm up in front of her chest, and stared furiously at her latte. "You know, you're right. I do feel like hitting you now." She wished her eyes could drill into the top of his head and peer into his brain. _Is . . . is Kousei actually trying to tell me he finds me attractive? He's never acted this way before!_ In her imagination a big-headed chibi version of herself was standing on her head, whacking her face with her schoolbag. _You fool!_ chibi-Tsubaki shouted. _Isn't this what you wanted? What are you complaining about?_

Tsubaki came out of her reverie and found Kousei looking at her. "What?"

"I said I'm sorry."

"Kousei?"

"Hmm?"

Without warning Tsubaki reached over and pinched her childhood friend. Hard.

Kousei's yell brought the proprietress along. They apologized for the noise.

"What was that all about?" Kousei snapped, rubbing his forearm briskly.

"Clean living, Arima. And I didn't hit you, did I?" Tsubaki said, smiling in a way she hoped made her look guilelessly innocent. "Now let me think."

Tsubaki ruminated on all that Kousei had said as she drank her latte and chomped down on a chocolate doughnut. "Alright, now let me say something. First, you do have something to offer me, otherwise I wouldn't be interested in you. Second, nobody said relationships are written in stone. We could screw up so royally we'd end up hate the mere sight of each other. But I'm still willing to take the chance, because taking no chance at all is even worse. Third, like every other guy I know, you equate love with sex. For the record, Kousei, I understand, but . . . I may love you, but if this were a drama that'd be on page 300, and we're, like, only on page forty-seven. Come on, one step at a time, okay?"

Kousei thought, _d_ _oes that mean we might reach A? B? C! D!_ His cheeks turned rosy pink as he imagined Tsubaki in ways he never thought he would.

"Hey!" Tsubaki snapped, pointing a spoon at him. "Didn't I just tell you 'clean living'? I'm trying to be serious here!" Inwardly she was screaming _What's going on? After all that's happened, why isn't piano-head keeping me at arm's length like he usually does?_

"Well, excuse me for being normal, Tsu-chan." He tried to change the subject. "I wonder if you understand what I'm trying to say."

"I think so. I'll never leave your side—if I'm welcome there. If not, then I should just go." She cocked her head. "Should I?"

Kousei, searching for words, put his hands on top of Tsubaki's. "You don't mind me . . . the way I am?"

Tsubaki smiled and turned her hand over so their hands were palm-to-palm. "When have I ever? I'm not too smart, Kousei, but I understand that you need to do what you need to do." She could hardly believe what was happening. Yet the moment was here; _carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero_ —that suited the brown-haired go-getter just fine. "I'll always be here."

A light snowfall had started to fall by the time they had finished their snack and stepped out of the shop. They seemed to be the only people on the street. As the shop door closed behind them, Tsubaki suddenly snaked her arm around Kousei's and pressed herself against him. Kousei made a surprised noise.

"Don't push me away," Tsubaki pleaded. "Please? I'm a bit cold."

Kousei put an arm around her waist. "I'm sorry."

She nuzzled his shoulder. "'Bout what?"

"Hurting you."

"I'll be alright. 'Yet each man kills the thing he loves/The coward does it with a kiss/The brave man with a sword!'"

"What's that?"

"A quote from an Irish poet named Oscar Wilde."

Seeing Tsubaki pressed against him, smelling the faint perfume of her shampoo, walking home with her amid the emptiness of the street in the falling snow was too much for Kousei. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm a coward, then."

Tsubaki turned to him, her brown eyes sparkling. "Not like that," she said softly, her arms going around his shoulders. "Like this."

They kissed, and to Kousei Tsubaki's lips tasted sweet and warm and soft. He had wondered before why people closed their eyes when they kissed. Now he knew why.

He opened his eyes and found her looking at him. "Well," she whispered, her voice unsteady, "that was nice."

"Y-yeah," Kousei agreed. "Sort of . . . mocha flavor."

Tsubaki giggled.

"Er, um . . . could we do it again?"

"Maybe next time."

"Why?" Kousei knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn't help asking.

Tsubaki, for her part, felt all tingly and warm. It was _just_ Kousei, someone she had known since she was little. Yet something about it felt so right and so plum-delicious —giddily Tsubaki thought of walking on a cloud—she was afraid she wouldn't be able to control herself. But perhaps Kashiwagi and the others were right—maybe her feelings for him ran deeper than even she thought they did. And go-getter she might be, but she also knew the value of caution. She had to get things under control before she or Kousei did or said something they might regret later. "Friends first, right?"

"I . . . uh . . . I . . . ."

"Then what are we? Shall we be part-time lovers? Am I only something to ease your loneliness?" The breath puffed from Tsubaki's mouth. "And after you've gotten what you want from me, will you leave me?"

"B-but I'd never do something like—" Kousei began, squirming.

With a heartfelt sigh she let go of him and stepped back. ""I'm sorry. I was being unfair. Don't think about it now. Wait for a week, then maybe things will seem clearer to you. Tell me then."

"Easy for you to say," Kousei replied, crestfallen.

"It's not," Tsubaki told him, averting her eyes, her hands balling into fists. "You don't know how difficult it is for me to step out of your reach and talk, instead of . . . doing something else." She kicked some snow around. "A week, please? Just a week."

"If you want, I'd think things over for a month." Kousei smiled a little, because for some reason he was regaining his good humor. "Just so you'd be comfortable."

"A month it is, then," Tsubaki said quickly, blithely skipping away across the street.

"Wait, I was just—come back here!" Kousei ran after her.

"No! A month!" She laughed and scampered away. Kousei gave chase, blowing steam like one of Alkan's imagined locomotives, and it was lucky he did so, because just as he was just a step behind Tsubaki, her shoes slipped on a slick patch of ground. Her legs flew out from under her, and she shrieked. She closed her eyes and waited to hit the cold brick beneath her.

She landed heavily on something that cushioned her fall. Opening her eyes, she found Kousei had dived under her and caught her in his arms, taking the brunt of the impact himself. He lay face down on the ground.

Tsubaki rolled off him. "I'm really sorry! Are you okay?"

"Only just. Have you gained weight lately?"

That earned him a bop on the head. "Let me see your hands. Your hands!" Tsubaki commanded, all but snarling in her sudden fright.

Without moving his head, Kousei raised his arms. "There. Satisfied?" He wiggled his fingers.

Tsubaki reached down and pulled him to his feet. She brushed his coat clean, a somber expression on her face. "You are meant for greatness," she said. "Heaven ever forbid that I should jeopardize that."

"Don't talk like that." Kousei admonished her. "I'm meant to be Kousei Arima, no one else." They stared at each other for a while, holding hands, not saying a word while they stood amid the falling snow, which twinkled in the streetlights like so many little ephemeral stars.

-oOo-

Bereft of Tsubaki, Kousei poured his heart into practicing for the Budokan concert. In this way half a month passed. He met with Watari and Tsubaki only a few times. The former waxed lyrical about a new girl he had met, while the latter said she was leery of influencing him and hence was avoiding him for the time being.

One March day, when the snow was all but entirely gone but the wind was still freighted with the cold of winter, Kousei was ambling along a boulevard near Otani Park when a picture in a shop window stopped him in his tracks.

The painting was of a flat landscape, in which water that spread as far as the eye could see reflected the brilliant, cloud-filled blue sky above, clear and still as a glass mirror, unbroken and never-ending. A girl wearing a white sundress, painted in strangely wavering brushstrokes, sat on a bench in front of a strongly-shadowed grand piano, her face away from the viewer, contemplating the faraway horizon. Her pose gave the impression of melancholic listlessness. Something vague, like a long piece of wood, lay on the music board. Kousei squinted and came closer. Then he saw the straight lines done by something like a palette knife, cutting into the paint, revealing thin white lines parallel to the piece of wood.

A bow. It had to be a bow.

With a suddenness that surprised himself, Kousei dove into the shop.

"Excuse me!" he said, accosting the person he found there. "That painting outside—"

"Yes, sir?" The woman had strawberry blond hair and a mole underneath the corner of her left eye. She was attired in an office suit that looked just like countless other office suits.

"Y-you—I've seen you before!" Kousei snapped his fingers. "You were the one who served us at the Ouji Park _kissaten_!"

"Eh?" The woman raised her eyebrows. "It's true, I used to work there." She smiled. "Now I work here, Mr.—"

"Arima. Kousei Arima."

"You were asking something about the painting in our display window?"

Kousei gathered himself. "Y-yes. Who painted it? Is it for sale?"

"Yes, it's for sale." She gave him the price.

"I'll take it," Kousei said without skipping a beat.

"Are you sure, Mr. Arima?"

"Money is no object," Kousei declared, fervently hoping the woman wouldn't call his bluff.

She looked at him for a long moment. "Very well. Let's step this way, please, so we can transact our business—" She turned away from him.

"Also," Kousei interrupted, gulping, "I would very much like to meet the one who painted it."

The woman stopped. She turned to look back at him with blue eyes full of suspicion. "Why?"

"I-it's just something I want to do," Kousei stammered. "No, to say I need to do it would be more honest. Her painting—it matches something I've seen years ago."

"Are you accusing the painter of being a plagiarist?" The woman faced Kousei, hands on her hips. "And what gives you the idea it's a girl?"

"No, I'm not saying that! As for being a girl—it's a wild guess." Kousei bowed low. "Please! It's very important to me! Please!"

The woman sighed. Scrutinizing him for a minute or so, she said, "The person who painted that is my niece. She is trying to live a quiet life. I will mention your request, but I can't guarantee she will agree to meet you."

"Thank you!"

"Let's just step into my office."

There was a room in back, and there they discussed the specifics of the purchase. The woman wrote out a bill of sale and handed it to Kousei.

He took the slip of paper and looked at it. "Excuse me, you must've written the price wrong."

The woman shook her head. "The balance of your wealth, Mr. Arima, lies in that head and those hands of yours. Beyond that—I would be hard-pressed to believe you." A faint smile played on her lips.

"You know who I am?"

The woman nodded. "You are familiar to me, and more famous than you probably realize." She produced a little rectangle of cardboard from the breast pocket of her uniform and handed it to him. Kousei extracted one from his card case, and they exchanged name cards. "Hikaru Hino. Shall you bring this home or will you have it delivered, Mr. Arima?"

"I'll take it home myself."

"Very good. If I might be so bold to ask, why the interest in the painting? No, the real reason."

"It's private." The woman bowed in her seat, yet the questioning look never left her eyes. "As you wish. My interest in the matter has everything to do with the person whom you wish to meet. I don't want anything—or anyone—destroying what little peace she's regained these past few years. Mr. Arima, if you only knew her history, you would be sympathetic with my concern. She is a fragile person." Ms. Hino looked out the small window of her office, at a small park filled with children. "A wounded bird," she murmured, seemingly more to herself than to Kousei.

"I only wanted to ask her how she came up with the idea for the painting. I don't want to cause trouble. If you could perhaps ask my question instead—"

"Everything depends on her answer. I will ask her tonight. I might call you later or tomorrow. However, I can guarantee nothing. Is that okay?"

"Perfectly."

"And one more thing. Try to not tell anyone what happened here today."

"Why?"

"It'd embarrass her greatly. Just please . . . not a soul. Not your friends, not your family." Ms. Hino cleared her throat. "If she agrees . . . will you just do what I tell you to do, no questions asked?" She looked straight at him.

"I will," answered Kousei, wondering what he had gotten himself into. "I'll wait for your call, Ms. Hino."

"Then it's settled. Thank you for your business, Mr. Arima. I'll just wrap your painting up."

-oOo-

"I was wondering where you were," said Hiroko Seto as she opened the front door. Koharu waved a cheerful hello as she poked her head out.

A tired Kousei dragged his large burden in. "Hello, Hiroko-san. Hi, Koharu."

"Now just where have you been that you couldn't answer your cell, hmm? And what is that monstrosity you brought with you?"

"I-it's just something I bought." He shuffled up the stairs, trying not to bang the painting against the walls.

As he emerged from his room, Hiroko made hastening motions. "Hey, slowpoke, hurry up. Your student's already waiting and . . . you forgot, didn't you?" She had seen his face fall when she mentioned Nagi.

"I'm so sorry."

"You've got ten minutes. I'll call Aiza-kun and make excuses." Hiroko then started jabbing him on the head with a finger. "This won't do, Kousei. I'll have to see what's in that painting, that made you forget you had an appointment." She turned to her daughter and whispered conspiratorially. "Maybe it's a picture of his girlfriend."

"Girlfriends!" Koharu shouted gleefully.

"Oho! A better idea!" She pinched Kousei's cheek. "You cad, you."

"It's not!"

"Look at him, Koharu. Isn't he cute when he blushes?"

"Like a tomato, Mama!"

"There's some tea in the carafe, and some sandwiches on the table. Have some before we go." Heading down the corridor towards the telephone, Hiroko added, "And get yourself ready, you know how Nagi can be when she knows her brother's home listening to her playing."

"Roger." Kousei sighed and went into the kitchen. Koharu followed him. "You want some?"

Koharu shook her head. "I already drank."

"Sandwich?"

"Mmm . . . okay." The eight-year-old accepted the lettuce-fringed comestible and began munching. "Thank you."

Kousei smiled. Sometimes he wondered what life with a sibling would've been like. He imagined it must be a lot like having Watari and Tsubaki at home all the time when they were kids.

-oOo-

Kousei sighed as he soaked in the hot bath. It had been a long day. Nagi was a bundle of nerves during practice, and Takeshi didn't help by interfering with his teaching. It was _Oi, Arima, don't sit so close to my sister!_ and _Really, Arima-sensei? That's so cliche! You're not trifling with me, are you?_ for two hours. Kousei was prepared to soldier on for another hour, but the arrival of several of Takeshi's fawning fans cut his plans short. However, he did learn some tips from Aiza he believed would be of use to the precocious student under his care.

He and Hiroko-sensei had then gone to her house to practice for half an hour. Then Hiroko stopped him and said he had done enough for that day. When he arrived home he found his dad cooking a pork stir-fry. After gorging on dinner, he had run a bath and submerged himself in the steaming water, feeling his frazzled tiredness turn into a pleasant lassitude.

Around eight-thirty, the phone rang. On its third ring the teenager had already wrapped a towel around himself as he headed for the door.

"Kousei, yours," his dad called, tossing the handset to him.

"Kousei Arima?" said the voice in the earpiece.

"That's me."

"Hikaru Hino, from the art shop. How does tomorrow sound?"

"Uh, great!"

"Be outside Coconeri at noon. Near the pedestrian bridge. I'll be wearing a blue hoodie and brown pants."

"Tomorrow noon, outside the Coconeri bridge."

"That's right. See you." The line went dead.

"Hot date tomorrow?" his dad asked, smiling.

"Sort of."

"You and Tsubaki-I don't want to pry, son, but is it serious?"

In his tired state, Kousei totally missed the implication. "She confuses me, Dad. I never know what she's thinking, while she usually guesses what I'm thinking even before I say something."

Takahiko Arima regarded his son. "You've been together a long time, so of course she knows you well. But you, ah, maybe you're starting to see her in a new light, and it's overwhelming you. I think you'll find that she isn't that far ahead when it comes to mind reading. You just need to settle yourself."

"M-maybe." Nah, his old man didn't need to know about the kiss. Kousei'd die from embarrassment first.

"So what are you standing there dripping on the stairs for? You want to catch a cold or something? Just be yourself. And please, Kousei—whatever happens, treat Tsubaki with respect."

Kousei nodded and went back to the bathroom to soak some more.

-oOo-

"Arima-kun," called a voice. Kousei turned around and saw Ms. Hino. Or at least it looked like her. But her garb—loafers, jeans and hoodie, hair done up in twin tails, and a ridiculously big watch on her wrist—made him do a double-take, for it made her look much younger.

"Sensei," he said, bowing, unsure how to address her.

"You're a little early," she said, smiling sunnily at him. "I suppose you're all raring to go, so I'll just call our ride." She pulled a smartphone out of her jacket pocket and sent a message. After she had replaced it, she commented, "I'm surprised you agreed to go with me. Aren't you afraid I'm some sort of evil person who'll kidnap you or something?"

"You don't seem like that sort of person."

"Ah, take care, will you? The world is not all music and light, and there are lots of people for whom Beethoven is a waste of time, only for high society snobs."

"I know the kind, unfortunately." Kousei turned and smiled back at Ms. Hino. "But for me, this is as essential as air and bread. But I'm looking for something more than just existing. Beethoven was deaf. Chopin and Grieg suffered their whole lives from tuberculosis. Alkan lived a troubled life. But through their music, part of them still lives on. I guess that's what I'm also looking for—something that'll outlive me."

"So part of you will live on too?"

"Sort of." His mind drifted back to Kaori saying "So that they'll never forget me." He couldn't have known back then, that when she was asking him to be her accompanist, she was actually also asking for his help in her bid for immortality. Freedom from the frail flesh her soul had been put into, that had been betraying her since she was little. A bouquet of flowers. Eyes that saw everything in the context of "Shall I ever pass this way again, I wonder." A desperate struggle to break out of an inescapable prison.

The woman looked appreciatively at him as a shiny Crown turned the corner and stopped in front of them. The rear door opened. "I see. Come along, this is our ride."

The driver was a tall, bulky man whose clothes were as casual as the ones worn by the lady from the art shop. A pair of oval sunglasses hid his eyes from view.

"This him, Hikaru?" the man asked as they merged with traffic on a main road.

"Kousei Arima, this is Johannes Breem."

"Hello."

"Nice to meetcha."

"We'll be heading for a house to the north of Tokyo. It shouldn't take us too long." When Kousei's face bertrayed his surprise, Hikaru remarked, "Well, you _did_ say you wanted to talk to her."

"I appreciate all the trouble you're going through on my behalf," said Kousei.

"That's just as well. You sort of got her interest. If I don't bring you to her now, she'll never let me hear the end of it."

Perhaps in deference to him, the man played classical music on the car's stereo. It was a piano piece, quiet and slow. Relaxing, Kousei thought, as he settled back for the ride. Simple and mellow, the piece seemed to sound familiar, but he couldn't recall the name just then.

-oOo-

They pulled into a gated residence, with a large two-story house set away from a relatively remote street. Kousei was shown into a large living room and asked to wait, while Hikaru Hino ascended a wide flight of stairs set against the far end of the hall. After a few minutes she came back downstairs and motioned for him to come with her. "My niece has just undergone medical treatment, Arima-kun. She is resting but has agreed to see you. She is sensitive to light after such a session, so her room is shaded. She gets tired easily at these times—please be careful." They ascended the fabulously appointed stairs.

"I didn't know she was so . . . inconvenienced," Kousei said. "I'll be careful."

"She can be stubborn when she wants something, and do things that aren't good for her. Speaking of stubborn, do you know she's been painting that same scene over and over, but she was always find something wrong with it and throwing it away or whitewashing it? Twice she even destroyed her work with a hammer. But she always said the same thing afterwards."

"What's that?"

"'If I don't finish this, he'll never find me.' That's what she said."

-oOo-

The hairs were still standing on the back of Kousei's neck as he entered the room. It was fairly dim, with lampstands in the corners providing a suffuse light. In the middle was a raised bed, with guardrails and high head- and footboards. A pile of folded linen lay upon it. An IV stand was in place on the left side of the headboard, with an empty bottle and auto-infuser hanging from it. There were three upholstered chairs; two flanked a table set at the near side of the room, and a third, taller one was positioned by the bed. A small refrigerator stood in the further corner.

Shoulder-length flaxen hair framed the person's face. She wore spectacles, of which one lens was tinted an opaque black. She was dressed in a buttoned-up blue shirt, a knitted blue pullover, and beige pants; from her thin, bony feet dangled closed-toe velvet slippers. She sat up in a chair, squeezing her palms together, altogether giving the impression of ardent, yet somewhat shy, nervous expectation. She looked up.

"Hello, Kousei." A single blue eye looked up at him. "Remember me?"

Kousei went to her and without preamble took her hands in his own, shuddering as he did so.

"You'd better tell me I've gone crazy or you're a zombie. Because last I heard—" Kousei had to stop as the words choked up in his throat "—last I heard the dead didn't come back to life . . . ."

The young woman smiled up at him, tears building in the corner of the eye that Kousei could see. "I'm not dead, am I? You dummy. They kicked me out of Heaven and Hell wouldn't accept me . . . ." Her right hand went up and traced the contours of Kousei's face, touched the wet tracks of the tears that had begun streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry I caused you so much sadness . . . ."

Overcome with emotion, Kousei reached down and bodily lifted her out of the seat, crushing her in an embrace he had dreamed about long ago, but laid to rest in the mouldy earth after her.

"Kaori!" he cried, weeping openly at the happiness unlooked-for, not caring if other people saw him. "Kaori!"

x-x-x

* * *

Author's Note:  
 _I'm afraid I couldn't do anything better. You can't imagine the number of iterations this chapter went through. Alas, the end result doesn't seem to work too well_ _—the painting was a dead giveaway, don't you think? Well, the subtitle itself was a already a clue_.


	5. Reborn in Spring II

**Reborn in Spring**

 **II: Bolero for a Resurrected Princess**

* * *

 _But through some twist of fate, I became ill, and we met. Should I be grateful for this turn of events?_

-Naomi Uehara, _Ichigo Doumei_

When Kousei had taken Kaori in his arms and started crying, Hikaru figured a retreat was in order. Smiling, she quietly left the room, pulling up a chair and sitting just out of earshot in the corridor outside. She took a crumpled pack of cigarettes from a small corner table and extracted one. Almost immediately the image of her friend Madoka popped into her mind. "Now, now," the woman with the long black hair said, "we're not young anymore. Ciggies aren't such a good idea."

She smiled at the memory. "Ah, be quiet, Madoka-san. You've got a lovely family. My son's all grown up and Yuu-kun's gone." She lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

Someone came up the stairs. It was Johann. She jerked a thumb at the door and put a finger to her lips. Johannes nodded and went back down, leaving Hikaru with her thoughts.

-oOo-

It took both of them around twenty minutes to calm down enough to start talking. During that time Kaori wailed and wept, burying her face against Kousei's chest and clutching his shirt. The last time she had cried in terror and despair as the process of divesting herself of her mortal coil drew nearer to its inevitable conclusion. This time it was because she had accomplished the impossible and yet still couldn't believe that she was actually standing here, holding Kousei, who meant the world to her. In the back of her mind there still was a horrible thought: what if this was all a dream, and she was actually still on the operating table, or worse?

"Kousei," she sobbed against his chest. "Kousei . . . ."

"Shh, it's alright. I'm here," he murmured.

"We're not in a dream, are we?"

"Do you want us to be in one? Then I'll say we are." He closed his eyes. "It's the best dream I've ever been in."

"Dummy. I don't want this to be a dream." She sought out his hand and grasped it, palm to palm, like they did before. It took a long time, but her sobbing gradually faded away; she hiccupped from time to time as her breathing shallowed out and grew more regular.

Kousei, his own face wet, buried his face in her hair. "Kaori, how come you never called me? Why didn't anyone let me know?"

"I've been in hospitals for a year and a half. And I couldn't—we couldn't—risk contacting you. That might put you in danger." She looked up at him.

"In danger? Why?"

"Let's just say not everyone's happy that I'm alive." When he favored her with a blank face, she explained, "from that Hikaru-san's told me, it has something to do with the doctor who treated me when I went clinically dead," the blond-haired girl explained. "Yes, Kousei. I did die on the operating table. But they say about a couple of hours later I suddenly coughed and scared everyone witless by waking up, juuust as the orderlies were collecting my body to wheel me down to the morgue." Her visible eye closed. "I have no recollection of that."

"Well, it's a lucky thing you coughed when you did!"

"Not really . . . my dad said I had to be put under immediately, because they had to re-operate on me. Since they figured I was dead, they kind of left some things . . . unfinished." Kaori trembled. "It was really painful."

"Try not to think of that," Kousei said, who knew too well that fear could scar her mind like it did his. "Do you remember anything else?"

"Bits and pieces. I remember . . . I remember hearing music as I lay there dreaming. I pieced together later that I was being operated on then. Then the music grew clearer. I knew it was you, and you were trying to reach me. Then I suddenly felt cold. I felt something was . . . very wrong, I remember thinking at the time." Kaori unconsciously tightened her grip on Kousei's arms. "At that point I said, 'Thank you,' because I was afraid—no, I _knew_ —I wasn't going to see you again." A single tear slid down her cheek; her voice was low. She sat back down in the chair Kousei had lifted her up from; Kousei perched on an armrest. "It was so unfair," she muttered. "So unfair . . . ."

Brushing the droplet away with a finger, he said, "I heard you. No, I mean it," he emphasized at Kaori's surprised expression. "It made me look up, because it broke my concentration. You sounded so tired and distant, like someone who had traveled very far, whispering from a secret place full of echoes. Then I was in sitting in front of the piano in this strange, empty landscape. A huge sky, full of clouds—it was so very blue. Then you appeared at my side."

More tears welled up in Kaori's eyes. "I saw you. You looked so sad . . . but I kept on smiling, because I didn't want our meeting to be any more full of tears than it already was. I wanted to talk to you, wanted to tell you that everything would be alright, but . . . we were already on the opposite sides of life." She managed an embarrassed laugh. "Any time you think I'm talking too crazy, shut me up, okay?"

"I don't mind being crazy, as long as it's with you. Let's continue with the crazy talk. Where were we? Ah, yes. The opus ended. You turned into swirling petals and flew into a star, and I was alone."

"I'm so sorry!"

"It's not your fault, so you should really stop apologizing."

"But you were calling for me. I was so worried my . . . passing . . . would make you return to that silent world you'd been living in before we met."

Kousei shook his head. "Never. Courage—that was your gift to me. I would never waste it."

"Everyone's free to do as they please. People don't do the right thing all the time. You could've chosen to give up, like I did. The stage is bright, the lights hurt my eyes." Kaori swept her arm across an imaginary stage. "The stars shine over you, but they're dim and far away."

"But I'd been down that path before with my mother, remember? It was a living death and I didn't ever want to be on it again. I feel guilty, though."

"Of what?"

"Of provoking you. I never meant for you to go through all that hardship. To suffer. If you hadn't fought, you wouldn't have undertaken the surgery, and then we might've had a little more time together. Duets be damned, Kaori."

"Kousei! You don't know that! I might have just as easily had another attack like the one you and Watari saw, and then where would we be, eh? Down at the end of a one-way street, no turning the car around. Sorry, un-chan, here's where I get off, thanks for the ride, wish I could've stayed longer but I wasn't brave enough to try. Bye-bye."

"Yeah, well, perhaps I should get sick myself, so I know what it feels—"

"Stop that! Don't say it, no, don't even _think_ it, Kousei!" Kaori said so fiercely that Kousei was taken aback. "It's something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy," she said in a softer tone. "I took a chance, that's all. If I didn't try . . . we probably wouldn't be standing here arguing like this, would we? Oh, now look. You've got me irritated—and I was going to tell you all that hereafter stuff." She frowned and set her lips in a straight line. Her good eye darted angry looks at his. "You can just wonder for the rest of your existence what Heaven and Hell look like. I'm not telling."

"What? I'm sorry."

"Just kidding!" laughed Kaori, her uptight mask dissolving instantly. "You're too serious! Smile, Kousei. You know, like this!" She hooked her fingers into the sides of his lips and stretched them to form a rictus that looked like something that Batman's Joker would make.

"Het gohh, Haoree," Kousei protested.

"Hahahaha!"

"Blerg," Kousei said when she had let go of his face. He took his handkerchief out and wiped her fingers. "You're nuts."

"Being legally dead, I claim freedom from common sense," she said, grinning at him.

"You don't need to be dead to be free from common—ow!" She pinched his upper arm unmercifully.

"You were saying?"

"I—uh, I—that really hurts, you know—you'd better stop that before I get really annoyed!" Kousei blurted.

"Or what, hmm? If you try anything, Johann would make two of you. Hikaru-san would tear you to shreds without breaking a sweat. Oh, don't mind me, I'm just so happy to see you!" She yanked him into the chair, half-sat on his lap, and pinched him some more before she stopped.

"Who is she, Kaori? Is she really a relative of yours?"

Kaori shook her head. "She's my bodyguard."

Kousei smiled despite the water-inducing pain in his arm and side and the darker aspects of the affair represented by Hikaru and Johannes. Kaori's antics reminded him of a kitten gamboling with a long-lost playmate.

"Are you hungry? I could stand a bite or two. I always get hungry after a session like this." Kaori gestured towards the IV stand.

"What is that?"

"My treatment, the results of which might help people worldwide. Real cutting-edge stuff."

"Is your doctor here? I'd like to thank him," Kousei said.

"Uh, you're going to have some trouble meeting him."

"Why?"

"He died in a car accident two weeks after I woke up in the hospital."

-oOo-

"Then who's supervising your treatment?"

"Two of his former interns. Sometimes they visit, or meet me in a hospital somewhere. Not Totsuhara. I heard I'm blacklisted with the administration there now."

"If you'll wait, I'll get us a snack. Just point me towards the kitchen."

"No!" yelled Kaori. "You're my prisoner!" She spread her arms wide and grinned.

Kousei smirked and leaned into her, puckering his lips.

"H-hey, what do you think you're doing?" a shocked Kaori stammered. She yelped and automatically leaned away, which gave Kousei additional room to move. Swiftly he shifted his center of gravity, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and hooked his arms under her back and knees. Then he lifted her off the chair in a princess carry.

"Eeep! P-put me down," Kaori squealed, kicking the air. "I'll show you something."

Kousei set her down. He didn't tell her, but he was perturbed at how light she was.

Kaori smiled at him. Then, with unsteady legs, she took a step away from Kousei. And another. And another. "What d'you think?" she asked, turning back to him and smiling.

Kousei was flabbergasted. "You can walk! That's great!" He scrambled to stand beside her. "Come on, take me to the kitchen."

"Yes, O my accompanist."

They opened the outer door and found Hikaru regarding them with a lopsided smile, cigarette still hanging from her mouth. "Well, Kao-chan? Stopped bawling, have you? Kissed your BF enough?"

"Hikaru-san!" Kaori had the grace to blush.

"Just joking. What are you doing?"

"Going downstairs for a snack."

Hikaru nodded. "Be careful. Kousei-kun, take care of her please."

"Yes ma'am!"

Kaori managed to descend the staircase under her own power, with one hand on the balustrade and the other in Kousei's grip. At the top of the stairs he began humming an insistent, repetitive 'taaa, tararara-rara-rararaa' tune. It took her until the bottom of the stairs to recognize it.

She cocked her head and regarded him. "Hey, you're not going to make me dance to 'Bolero,' are you?"

Kousei just grinned.

Kaori took up the ostinato rhythm herself, Kousei humming the melody along, and together they walked in lockstep, hand in hand, slide-stepping on the hardwood, with him attempting to twirl her once and almost spilling them both on the floor. Laughter sounded throughout the large, empty house.

-oOo-

The kitchen was larger than some apartments Kousei had seen, and it was divided into a dining area and a cooking area, separated by a central island-type bar and grill.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Much better." Kaori lifted the tray of cold cuts. "Prosciutto?"

"No more, thanks. I'll have a little more juice."

Kaori poured him some from a glass pitcher. "Who owns this house?"

"Hmm? Oh, Hikaru-san does."

"Wow." He looked around the cooking area. On the farther wall was a large freezer chest and double-door refrigerator, flanked by a large window which looked out on a garden. "If she's so rich, why does she work as a bodyguard?"

Kaori shrugged. "I don't know. I think she intended to live here once with her husband, but he died a few years ago."

Conversation lapsed for a few minutes as Kaori ate, Kousei urging her to 'put some flesh on those bones.'

She looked at him, nonplussed. "Thanks, Kousei. You're a real confidence builder."

"I didn't mean it as an insult. But you really are thin."

"I know that. You don't need to point it out. I already feel embarrassed." A light sort of came on in Kaori's eyes. "I have it! You can feed me."

"What?"

"Feed me, Kousei. Aaahhh."

 _Gahh,_ Kousei thought to himself. _Oh, well._ It was a harmless enough whim. He speared some a slice of ham on a fork and gingerly maneuvered it into Kaori's mouth. Then he chose a sliver of cheese, followed by a piece of apple.

"Cheese and apple! Chapple chapple chapple!" Kaori gleefully exclaimed, swaying from side to side with a blissful expression, hands on her cheeks. "Yummy! More!" As he gave her more, Kousei remembered her food tripping at the Patisserie Ueno, the day she found out about what made him stop playing the piano.

"It must be awfully quiet here," he remarked as he fed her some more tidbits.

"Yeah. It's really boring. No one to talk to, and I keep getting underfoot. But I try to make the best of it, as I never know if I'll suddenly be forced to move somewhere else."

"That's another thing I don't understand," Kousei said, leaving a slice of cheese just out of Kaori's reach. "Why are these people after you?"

"I heard they want to cut me open and see why I'm still alive. If they can duplicate what the doctor did, they stand to earn a lot of money." Kaori jerked forward and took the cheese out of Kousei's hand.

"That's terrible."

"Don't tell _me_ that, tell _them_. I've grown pretty attached to my body parts, thank you very much." She swallowed the morsel and sighed. "In some ways, nothing has changed between now and then."

"Kaori—"

"I'm just glad I met you, you know that? You're . . . something nice to think about when things are not so great. No, don't get a swell head just because I said that."

"Like when?"

Kaori shook her head. "Don't make me remember those horrible times. Please."

Kousei kept his silence. He could only wonder at what she had felt. It was frightening enough to watch his Mom suffering, but Kaori, younger and with less resilience, her well of courage run dry . . . .

"It's okay." Kaori reached out and covered his hand with hers. "Hey, um, I don't suppose you could, you know, stay here tonight?" she asked quietly.

Kousei thought of her parents, of Johannes and Hikaru. If it were up to him, he'd stay. But of course it wouldn't be good for Kaori's image if he did. "Well, not very well, Kaori."

"O-of course. Silly me." Kaori looked away from Kousei, blushing a bit. "To be honest, I'm going to be sleeping a lot later anyway."

She continued eating and kept up a stream of small talk. Kousei nibbled along—he was too caught up talking with her to build up much of an appetite, just a bite here and there, along with teasing Kaori by pretending to feed her, then suddenly eating the food he was supposed to give. It wasn't long until she was updated with much of what had happened at school since that fateful February day three years ago.

"Hey, Kaori."

"Yes?"

"If you can walk, does that mean you can play—"

"No," she said flatly. "Believe me, I've tried." She held up her left hand and stared at it.

"What did the doctors say?"

"Perhaps in a couple of months. No guarantees."

"That's terrific news."

"I'm keeping my fingers crossed." Her tone did not sound hopeful.

"Well, whatever happens, you tried. That's all that matters in the end."

"Because a certain cruel pianist threw a gauntlet down in front of me," Kaori said, smiling. "I still hope we can fulfill that dream." She held out her hand to him, palm forward.

Kousei grasped it, intertwining his fingers with hers. He noted her hand was trembling a bit. "Me too."

-oOo-

The time to leave came all too swiftly. It was already mid-evening, and they had returned to Kaori's upstairs room.

She was lying in bed, having been tucked in by Kousei. He sat on the edge, and had just remarked how early it was for her to be sleeping, but she told him, "I want to stay up, but I'm afraid this is how things are. I'm gonna sleep like a log until around 5 A.M."

"Get lots of rest. I'll be back as soon as possible. If you want me to, I mean."

Kaori nodded. "Of course. Kousei?"

"Yes?"

"Sorry I've been imposing on you all the time you've been here. Thanks." She stretched, feeling herself beginning to be enveloped by a delicious torpor. "Well, don't you want to be fussed over sometimes?"

Kousei didn't, but he understood how Kaori felt, so he wasn't cross at all. She was like a cat, egotistical and willful, but once her wants were fulfilled she just lay purring affectionately on your lap. And sometimes—he grimaced—she sharpened her claws on you as a sign of that affection. Affection and affliction, he mused. Weren't they like love and hate, two sides of the same coin?

He decided to play one last trick on her. "Aren't you going to see me off?"

"What? Oh, okay, let me just—" There it was: the slight flash of annoyance on Kaori's face he was looking for. She tried to get out of bed, but Kousei had sat down on the bedcover and trapped her inside. "Unh, get off the bed, dummy."

"Gotcha. I'm just joking." Kousei patted her shoulder as she threw dagger looks at him. "Get your rest. Can I call you?"

"You'll have to ask Hikaru-san. I don't think she'll let you."

"Fine. Got a cellphone?"

"If I did, I would've called you long ago."

Kousei sighed. "Then I'll see you soon."

"Yup. Nighty-night. Thanks so much for coming over." Kaori grabbed his hand and squeezed it. She was beginning to tear up again, so he stayed with her until she had calmed down. She quickly fell asleep, her straw-colored hair strewn on the pillow, a scraggly nimbus around her head.

"Good night." _As if you and your painting didn't have anything to do with me being here,_ he thought. Some might say it was a remarkable coincidence, his finding it while wandering aimlessly. Kousei wasn't so sure it was just a coincidence.

Looking down at her, Kousei heard in his imagination the slow, faraway sound of another of Maurice Ravel's famous pieces, _Pavane for a Dead Princess_. But now he was no longer afraid of hearing it. What harm could it do? Kaori was here, frail but alive. He silently vowed to make her second chance at life a happy one.

As he continued looking at her, the music began to shift, first a single instrument, then another, and another. Entire sections began to play new music until it turned into another piece, faster and less remote, with a much richer, fuller sound than the spare sonority of the Pavane, and to his dismay Kousei found himself listening in his head to _Camellias in the Summer Garden._


	6. A Stormy Summer

**A Stormy Summer**

 _Schroder: Charlie Brown, let me give you a little advice. As long as you think only of yourself, you'll never find happiness. You've got to start thinking about others!_ _  
_ _Charlie Brown: Others? What others? Who in the world am I supposed to think about?_ _  
_ _Schroder: Beethoven!_ _  
_ _Charlie Brown: Oh good grief!_

* * *

February slowly made its way to March, with the slow, slow return of life. As migratory birds came winging back, as tough shoots of early spring bloomers came rising through the snow, and as rivers and streams began to gurgle more with meltwater, Kaori became Kousei's secret and guilty pleasure. Every week he made the trip to Hikaru-san's house to spend time with her. He couldn't stop seeing her, and brushed aside obstacles in the way of meeting with her with irritated alacrity. He grew bored with his classes at Okutsu; he felt as if they were wasting his time. The 1800s didn't hold the same appeal they did as before; how could they? What was dusty history compared to the megawatt smile and enthusiasm of a kindred spirit? He paid a surprise visit in early March, and Hikaru greeted him and told him Kaori was in the music room on the ground floor, to the left of the staircase.

A carpeted corridor led to a large, windowless room. The door was closed, but the sound was definitely coming from inside. Kousei stood outside and quietly listened as the instrument began to play the first movement of Mozart's Violin Sonata No.9. It struggled unsteadily for a while, with more than a few fluttering, off-key notes, then suddenly fell silent halfway through. It brought to Kousei's mind the image of a nightjar, flying low over a pond, then suddenly getting caught by the wicked beak of a turtle. In a tumult of flapping wings and thrashing water, it was dragged into the depths; eventually all the splashing died away, a baneful silence returning to the gloom.

Kousei shook the image away and opened the door without knocking. _Really,_ he thought, _attempting to play a competition-level piece when it's obviously too early . . . ._ He stepped into the room, intention of chiding Kaori and was taken aback by what he saw standing there.

The figure stood in the middle of what was a library/sitting room, arms at its sides, holding a shiny lacquered violin in one hand and a hammerhead bow in the other. It was swathed entirely in some sort of black stuff, hooded head tilted towards the floor. It turned slowly towards him. "Surprise, Ka—"

Kaori's visage peered at him from within the hood. Dull eye, mussed, pale-golden hair, lips and skin with only a hint of pink in them. "Kousei."

"Kaori, what on Earth—"

"I can't do it. I just can't." She let out a deep sigh.

"I told you—you're pushing too hard too soon." Kousei motioned for her to sit down, but she remained standing.

Kaori gave him a trembling smile. "I know, I'm just that hard-headed. A bit tired, too, actually."

Kousei pulled one of the chairs in the room up to her. "So sit down."

Kaori closed her eyes. "I'd love to, but I'm kind of cramping up at the moment, so—"

"What?" Not understanding what she just said, Kousei pulled her towards him. She tottered forward reluctantly, and grimaced when her foot hit the ground.

"Aaah!" Suddenly her eyes grew wide. "Ah, not again!"

"What's wrong?"

Kaori suddenly began stomping her right foot against the floor. "No no no _no_!" she shrieked.

"What are you—"

"Call Hikaru-san, please!" Kousei would have laughed at her, for she presented such a ridiculous sight, but the panic in her voice and the pain in her eyes told him it had nothing to do with levity.

"Hino-san! Hino-san!" Kousei yelled as he leaned out the door. In a flash the elder woman was there, and it only too her one look at Kaori to learn what had happened.

"Kousei, turn the airconditioning off. Then go to the kitchen and make some tea. Lots of it. You'll find some warm rice porridge on the stove. Get a bowl of it and bring everything here. Quick as you can." Turning to Kaori, she said, "Now sit down, Kao-chan. Everything will be fine." With Hikaru's help she tumbled onto a tall-legged stool. The red-golden haired woman took a seat in front of her. "Take deep breaths, that's it. Relax as much as you can." Kousei watched as she lifted Kaori's right leg onto her lap. The shroud of the bedcover fell away, exposing the thin whiteness of her limb. Her toes were curled.

"Ah, I can't control it," said Kaori. "Owowowowow!"

"Arima! Go!"

"Y-yes!" Kousei fled the room and made his way to the kitchen.

-oOo-

He got the tea and porridge together as fast as he could. Placing it all on a tray, he hurried back to the room. He paused outside the door. "Hikaru-san?"

Kaori's bodyguard opened the door and motioned for him to come in. "Thank you, Arima-kun. Please place the tray on the table. Tell you what, you be the one to massage Kaori's leg while I get the food ready."

Kousei looked at leg stretched out on the chair. "Me? Why?"

"It's no big deal," Hikaru said. "Just be gentle and keep massaging her muscles. Try to straighten her toes if they curl." She yanked him and sat him down on the seat, then placed a towel on his lap, followed by Kaori's bare foot.

"Like this, see?" she said, demonstrating. "Now you try. There you go. Is it okay, Kaori?"

Kaori nodded, but she was pale and sweaty, and she cried out as her calf shuddered.

Kousei kneaded the tightening muscles, first gently, then firmly. He wished he knew what was going on; he felt so helpless not knowing.

Kaori's foot began to point downwards. She groaned and looked pleadingly at Kousei.

"Are you doing that?" Kousei asked.

She shook her head. "That's why I like to be standing up when this happens. My weight stops this—" She flinched.

Kousei cupped the balls of Kaori's foot in his hand and gently pushed the foot up, his other hand massaging the front of her leg. He kept on doing this for about twenty minutes, by which time Hikaru had started feeding Kaori the rice porridge and tea. At around thirty minutes the spasms seemed to die down. As she finished the last of the gruel, Kaori spoke.

"I'm so sorry I'm such a bother," she apologized, bowing.

"You might tell me what just happened," Kousei suggested.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

Shaking his head, Kousei raised his right hand. "Hey, if you want to pinky swear, I'll do it."

"It's cramps." Kaori sipped the mug of tea she held in her hands. "Ones I can't tell are coming. Sometimes—" her eyes glinted with remembered fear "—I can't control them no matter what I do.

"They happen when Angel-Eyes over here gets cold or pushes herself too much," said Hikaru, nodding towards Kaori. "But no, she won't listen to me or the doctors. She _knows_ better." Hikaru plonked the bowl she had been holding onto the tray. "You're driving us crazy, you know."

"I'm so sorry." Kaori bowed lower.

There was an awkward silence. "Oh, get up, will you?" Hikaru groused. "We both know you were born hardheaded. Just make sure—" she clapped a hand on Kaori's shoulder "—just make sure something positive comes of it."

Kousei moved towards the tray, intending to bring it back to the kitchen. "Yo, I'll take care of that. Don't touch the plates, for Heaven's sake. You've been holding your girlfriend's foot."

Kousei turned a funny shade of reddish pink, while Kaori did a spit take into her mug, coughing.

"Just a moment, Hikaru-san! I've heard the jokes you guys have been saying, but he isn't my—"

The elder woman raised her eyebrows. "What, you're going to tell me you aren't boyfriend-girlfriend?"

Kaori slowly shook her head. Suddenly feeling shy, she tugged the black cloth over her exposed leg.

Hikaru knowingly watched the milk-white skin disappear. "Bullshit," she said cheerfully. "Friends don't cry a flood when they see each other again." She flicked over to Kousei. "They don't skip classes just to see each other." Finally, she cast a critical stare at the two students. "They don't happily invade each other's personal space without a second thought."

"Maybe they do," countered Kaori. "After all, you're from a different generation than we are. Right, Kousei?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And all I'll say has been said by the French before. 'The more things change—'"

"'—the more they stay the same.'" Kousei finished.

"I'll leave you to your own devices, you not-BF/GFs," Hikaru said, gathering up the tray. "No funny business, Kousei . . . or else."

"O-of course not!" Kousei jerked a thumb at Kaori. "She'd probably kick me to death if I tried anything!"

"Really? Why would you do something so unladylike, Kao-chan?"

Kaori's face was set in a massive frown. "He had it coming to him." Then she glanced at Kousei and laughed. "Just joking! But he's a camera pervert, Hikaru-san, so watch out!"

"A camera pervert? Kousei-kun? How terrible! I must remember to wear . . . something sexy every time you're here." She winked, and Kaori laughed harder at Kousei's discomfiture.

-oOo-

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for what I said a while ago. You know, about us not being in a relationship." They still sat in the same room; Kaori's leg was still on Kousei's lap, and he was still massaging it. "But it's the truth, isn't it?" She lowered her gaze and her voice. "I know you and Tsubaki have something going on."

Kousei's hands stopped moving. "How would you know?"

"I saw you before. At the _kissaten_ near Ootani Park, with her. I kind of lost my cool and dropped a pot on the kitchen floor. You looked so . . . so comfortable with her. I got jealous."

"Come to think of it—you were there? I did hear something fall in the kitchen."

"Guilty as charged," Kaori said. "It's ironic. I'd been bugging Hikaru-san to get out of the house so I could work and forget about you, but it seems fate had other things in mind."

"You were thinking about me?"

Kaori took a deep breath. "Ever since I woke up. I kept thinking things like, 'You have to get better, or you'll never see Kousei again.'" She smiled wanly. "Imagine how I felt when I saw you and Tsubaki together."

"Kaori, I . . . ."

"Oh, I'm not blaming you or Tsubaki or anything like that," Kaori said, raising and shaking her hands. "I'm just someone passing by . . . ." A sob escaped her, and she covered her face with her hands.

Kousei reached out and grabbed her hands, forcing them away from her face. "Kaori, wait . . . Kaori!"

The distraught girl yanked her arms away. "Stop looking at me!"

"Kaori," the prodigy pleaded. "Listen for once, will you? You made that letter under different circumstances. You thought you were going to die. You were writing your last words. Things have changed now. You can't use that as an excuse because the band has passed you by, and yet you're still playing the same song."

"Do you really believe that? And even if what you say is true—I don't want to make an enemy of Tsubaki. I don't want to have an enemy in the world!" Her hands disappeared into the folds of her getup. "I just want to live out whatever days I have in peace and quiet."

Kousei patted Kaori's shins. "What caused all these cramps, then? Was it because you were trying to make waffles? Being an artist is suffering. We struggle, we beg and scream and yell . . . so we can better ourselves and be remembered by others. So a certain someone once told me." He smiled gently at her. "I don't think that's changed."

"Maybe." Kaori adjusted her spectacles. "Hey, when I get better, let's do Ballade Number One again, okay?"

Kousei nodded. "I'll be looking forward to that. But I have one request."

"What?"

"Don't suddenly disappear, 'kay? I don't think I can handle heartbreak a second time . . . ."

Kaori reached over and hugged him. "Not this time," she reassured him. "Don't worry." She smelled his scent, his clothes, felt his arms around her hugging her tightly. _I'm sorry, Tsubaki,_ she thought, closing her eyes. _I'm sorry._

The door opened. "Kao-chan? Your parents are—"

She opened her eyes and looked up to see her mother and father flanking Hikaru. Both had varying degrees of shock and consternation written on their faces.

"Arima!" boomed Mr. Miyazono, a baleful light emanating from his eyes. "What is the meaning of this?"

-oOo-

"Don't hurt him, Dad! I was the one who embraced him!"

"Kaori!" snapped her mother. "Don't forget yourself!"

"I can't let you hurt him!" Kaori flinched as her still-smarting body moved to shield Kousei.

Kaori's father suddenly let out a guffaw. "Enough, enough! Hikaru-sensei has just told us how he was helping you recover from a case of the cramps. I have to say it's a rather odd way of helping . . . ."

"He was just telling me something that made me happy, that's all!"

"So we heard. I've just got to install more insulation in these walls," Hikaru-san said, rapping on the wooden walls with her knuckles.

"I'd be pleased to see my daughter perform with you, Kousei-kun. However, I'd like to talk over some things, man to man. Could you step outside with me? Relax, I won't so much as lay a finger on you," he said in reassurance, seeing the fear flash across Kousei's reddened face.

Kousei extricated himself from Kaori and slowly followed Mr. Miyazono out of the room. With each step he imagined a dirge tolling the march to his execution.

Kaori watched him leave, closing the door behind him. "Mom, I'm telling the truth. Kousei didn't do anything."

"That sort of behavior is rather dangerous, Kao-chan. He cares for you a lot. No, don't deny it." Mrs. Miyazono raised a hand. "I've seen enough of the same sort before."

"Dad?"

"No, your Dad turned into a pussycat," she replied, smiling faintly. "I want you to think if it's wise to get into a relationship now. It's not that I don't want you to be happy," she said quickly, seeing the stubborn look emerge on her daughter's face, "but you may end up hurting more if you become his girlfriend."

"Oh, Mom," Kaori said with an air of sadness. "I'm not his girlfriend. I'm the other woman in his life."

-oOo-

"The unseasonably early Typhoon Usagi has continued to dwindle in strength, with the winds of sixty to one hundred twenty kilometers an hour. It is expected to pass the Shikoku region at ten tomorrow evening."

 _Ah, jeez,_ Tsubaki thought as she switched off her bedside radio. It was just as well she had a furlough coming. Outside the wind was already blustery and the rain was somewhat weak but persistent.

March was creeping along. Kousei still hadn't answered. It seemed he was busy lately; he was always out of the house, even on weekends. The few times Tsubaki had called his cell, he had sounded frazzled and apologetic, so she left him alone. She didn't want to give the impression that she was chasing after him. But even the most patient person had limits, she mused, and so she had directed her attention instead to providing Four-Eyes a nice gift. It was going to be his birthday soon, after all.

The light clicked on in Kousei's room, catching her attention. _Boy, he sure came home late._ Sometimes they exchanged greetings, window to window, but they hadn't been doing that lately.

It was still early. Tsubaki had seen Kousei's dad leave two hours ago. Maybe she'd drop by and see if he was eating right. Stuff like that. She reached for her cellphone.

-oOo-

Kousei listened to the rain drumming on the roof. Having just put his bags away, he had lain down on his bed without bothering to change clothes. He laced his hands under his head.

"Boy, am I beat," he announced to the room. "I think I'll take a hot shower and then sack out." Feeling absolutely slothlike, he shed clothes on the way to the bathroom. He'd pick them up later—no one was going to complain about him trudging the corridors of the house in his skivvies.

As he entered the shower and waited for the hot water heater to gather momentum, he made mental notes on things he needed to do for the rest of the week. There was another lesson with Nagi (she was trying to play "The Snow is Dancing," by Debussy), a rehearsal with Emily and the rest of the group at school for their show (it counted as a test). On Thursday he had promised to go to that little Sumida bar to do some note-slinging. There was no time to see Kaori. Things would've been easier if he had been allowed to call her, but Hikaru-san's stand on the matter was absolute: no calling whatsoever. No possession of even sterile cellphones, Hikaru had vetoed him, and you wouldn't want to put Kaori in danger, now, would you? Better safe than sorry, said she of the strawberry blond hair. It was irritating, but he had to agree.

In his empty room, the cellphone rang a few bars of _Hikaru Nara_ for a while, then stopped.

-oOo-

 _Maybe he's asleep already,_ Tsubaki thought. She lay back down on her bed and hugged her pillow, wishing it was Kousei instead. She missed him a lot and wished he would make up his mind. How difficult was it to just say 'yes'? Unless . . . he couldn't be thinking of that, could he? She sent him a quick message and waited for a reply.

-oOo-

The first thing Kousei noticed was the lighted screen of his cellphone, indicating a missed call. Tsubaki. He picked his phone up off the table, read the message, and dialed immediately.

"Yello."

"Hey. Am I disturbing you? Can I come over?"

"I was in the shower and didn't hear your call. Anyway, I was going to have dinner."

"Great, I'll bring something over."

"Ah, that's fine. I didn't really feel like eating alone."

"See you in ten minutes."

The doorbell rang at the appointed time, and Kousei opened the door. Tsubaki stood there in jeans and a knitted white short-sleeved pullover, holding a shallow, rounded bowl in her hands.

"Some pork and veggie stew," she said, smiling, lifting the container. Kousei thanked her and took the dish. They stepped inside and Tsubaki paid her respects to Saki Arima's little shrine before following Kousei to the kitchen/dining room.

"Mom cooked that," she said, helping Kousei set the table.

"It smells delicious," Kousei remarked. They sat down to eat, and spent the meal in lively chitchat. Kousei contribution to the meal was some _katsudon_ and unfamiliar drinks called wine coolers that an acquaintance at school encouraged him to try.

"It tastes like . . . I dunno, fruit punch?" said Tsubaki. "It's very sweet." She asked Kousei for another glassful of the translucent reddish liquid. Kousei poured the rest of the drink in her glass. "When."

"Like strawberry," agreed Kousei, filling his own mug and taking a sip. He smacked his lips. "Pretty nice."

"So what have you been up to lately? You've been busy, haven't you?"

"How'd you guess?" With his chopsticks Kousei brought a piece of cabbage to his mouth. The crunch was satisfying—when he made stew the vegetables usually became soggy, tasteless pieces of plant matter.

"You've been coming home pretty late the past week or so."

"Y-yeah. Well, there's a lot going on in Okutsu. It's almost exam time again—'bout you?"

"Same. But I'm not afraid of them papers." Tsubaki threw some shadow punches. "I've got a good study group going with a couple of friends."

"That's nice." Kousei told her about the performance-based grading system their teacher had adopted for his class. "So it's practice, practice, practice. No one wants to be the weak link in the chain. We're supposed to be having fun, but everyone's so competitive it hasn't really been like that."

"Aww. Don't tell me you're being bossed around by that classmate of yours," said Tsubaki.

"Sort of," Kousei admitted. "Emily's so aggressive she makes me nervous."

"Are you sure you're not getting nervous because you're being faced by an attractive girl?" Kousei had already shown Tsubaki a picture of his erstwhile schoolmate. Tall, smiling, blond-haired, the English girl reminded her of Kaori.

Kousei's eyes gleamed for an instant before he replied. "You're right, I don't get to meet beautiful girls every day, so it makes me kind of nervous—just kidding!"

"What, am I not beautiful enough for a gorilla?"

"Come off it, Tsu-chan, that nickname's been dead and gone for years now. Only Watari calls you that anymore."

"Then what am I, hmm?"

"A girl. Who's been my friend a long time." A smile and then a frown chased themselves across Kousei's face.

Tsubaki sighed. "You know, getting something from you is like pulling hen's teeth. You're so opaque at times."

Kousei shrugged. If anything, the years had only taught him how mystifying _girls_ could be. "W-well, what do you want from me?"

"An answer."

The smile tripped, and the frown caught it and ate it up. "Tsu-chan, I know you're going to hate this, but . . . can we try it out first?" _Idiot,_ he thought, _why are you saying this? Why not tell her you're seeing someone else? She doesn't deserve this._ Memories of growing up with the unruly-haired girl who braved the wrath of Kousei's mother rolled by in his mind.

Out of the darkness always edging the fringes of his mind a voice spoke. _You're a coward in real life, eh, Kousei-kun?_ It was the voice of the cat, and for a moment a flash of green rippled through his mind's eye and and peered into his psyche. _I'm disappointed in you. Here is someone who dares share the risk of your road, yet this is what you offer in return. Guile. Deceit. Betrayal._

He gradually became aware of a voice calling his name. "Kousei! Kousei! What's happening to you?"

"S-sorry. I spaced out."

"Is the whole idea that troublesome to you?" Tsubaki asked, a worried look on her face.

"No, I was just thinking of how I-I don't know anything about being romantic!" Kousei gazed full into Tsubaki's shining brown eyes. "Tsu-chan, I don't want to lose you because I was a good friend but a bad boyfriend!"

"You think I don't worry about that myself? I don't know the first thing about music except I like listening to yours. I'm not the prettiest. I can be clueless and rude. I also don't know what makes a good girlfriend. If we fall out, I can't even promise you we can go back to being friends. But you can bet I'll try my best to be." Tsubaki sighed. "I don't want a perfect someone, Kousei. There's no such person. Just be yourself."

"So . . . we can be, what do they call it . . . 'friends with benefits?'"

"More or less." _Yes, that's it,_ she told herself. _Put a good spin on it._ Never tell him a little bit of her heart died at that moment.

"I suppose. But what are these benefits?"

Tsubaki stared at him. "You're really something, you know that?" She reached out and pulled him to her, kissing him softly on the lips. "Does that give you an idea?"

"Ah. . . yeah. But I hope you don't expect to do that in front of your family."

"Are you crazy? We'd never hear the end of it. Of course, there are limits, too."

"Like what?"

Tsubaki kissed Kousei again. He tasted of stew. And boy. Boystew. She giggled.

"You talk too much." She kissed him again. "To mark the beginning of 'us,' come what may," she whispered. An electric tingle ran up her back and across her shoulders. She sat down on her new beau's lap and hugged him tight.

Kousei spent some time simply holding her, his chest tight with feeling as he slowly stroked her back. He moved his head a little to kiss the side of her head. _Tsubaki . . . I don't want to hurt you._

A sibilant voice whispered " _Betrayal"_ in his ear.

-oOo-

Nervous of going too far, the two quietly finished the meal, only this time their chairs were so close they were pressed up against each other. No one complained, though. It was a cool night.

Afterwards they watched a bit of TV. Tsubaki wanted to talk, but found Kousei asleep on the sofa beside her. He must've been more tired than she thought. After calling her dad to say she'd be home in a couple of minutes, she gently moved him into a sleeping position and searched for something to cover him.

Finding nothing, she realized what she sought would surely be in his bedroom. _Why didn't I think of that before?_ she castigated herself. She quietly went upstairs to get it.

The room was in darkness, and Tsubaki wordlessly asked for forgiveness for invading Kousei's sanctuary. She felt along the wall until she found the light switch. Turning them on, she found more than enough sheets folded on Kousei's bed. As she moved to collect them, her gaze found what was mounted on the wall.

She blinked her eyes. Of course. Of course he would have something like that hanging on his wall. For at the Eastern Japan Competition, Tsubaki saw with her own two eyes that it wasn't just Kousei on stage during his performance that fateful February day.

-oOo-

" _I'm sorry I left you_ ," Kousei read the text message on his cellphone. " _I didn't want to wake you and you looked comfy anyhow. By the way, I went inside your room to get something to get you a bedsheet, okay? I didn't go through your stuff or anything like that, promise! Thanks for an interesting night._

 _Love, T._

 _PS: I was surprised to see that picture on your wall. You never told me you'd taken up painting."_

Kousei lay back on his bed. He recalled the softness of Tsubaki's lips, her arms' tight embrace, the warmth as they hugged. He looked at the ceiling and sighed.

-oOo-

"Is something the matter, Arima-sensei? You seem distracted."

"What? No, nothing's wrong. I was . . . I was just listening to your playing, Nagi. You're still off on the timing. Scoot over."

His blond-haired pupil made room, and Kousei sat down beside her. They had been going over this for the last over a week now."Now close your eyes and listen carefully. You're playing like this." Kousei went through the first few bars of _The Snow is Dancing_ , one of the pieces comprising Debussy's _Children's Corner_ suite. "You need to adjust a little so the keys fall like so." He repeated the same measures, exaggerating the shortness of the notes. "Can you hear the difference?" Nagi didn't respond; she had that faraway look in her eyes Kousei knew well.

"Pretend your Claude-Emma, in her winter clothes, staring out at night at the snow falling outside. The lampposts are trying to shine, but the snow is falling down thickly, thickly, swamping them until they light only a small circle around them. The air is cold and stinging, and you're all alone." Kousei played the piece a little louder. "Nagi? Nagi?"

She still didn't answer. Kousei sighed inwardly.

"Hey, your brother's trying to get your attention," he said perfunctorily, snapping her out of her reverie.

"What? Where?" Nagi looked around.

"Ah. Did you hear what I said?"

The young woman stepped on his foot. "No dirty tricks, Arima-sensei. I already promised Hiroko-san I wouldn't ruin your reputation, so I beg you not to do the same."

Kousei turned to look at his pupil, who was still dressed in her school uniform. "As if you could."

Nagi half-grinned, half-grimaced. "I can, if I wanted to." She craned her neck to get a better look at him. "Oh, feeling invincible because you have a girlfriend?"

"How would you know that?"

"The Angel of Chikarigaoka High School has many admirers," said Nagi haughtily. "And they have the same light in their eyes and happiness in their voices that I notice in yours now." She snapped her fingers. "So cliché."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Like the light from a lighthouse. I'm not one to pry, but do I know her?"

Kousei shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Please treat her well. I've got a friend in school who had the hots for this guy. He turned out to be no good. He was seeing another girl and didn't tell her, and he eventually chose the other girl and dumped her." Nagi smiled a slow, evil smile. "So I inconvenienced him a little."

"What did you do?"

Nagi shook her head. "Best for you not to know."

"Well, I hope you'll find someone better when it's your time." Kousei ventured to pat her on the head.

A voice sounded from the door to the music room, which was behind them. "Hey, Arima! What the hell do you think you're doing to my sister?"

Kousei started. "Takeshi? I was just telling her—"

"You're sitting too close to her. Move away!"

"But I'm trying to teach her," Kousei protested.

"Move away, or I won't be responsible for what might happen next."

Nagi rolled her eyes. She had her back turned to her brother, so he couldn't see her face. "Leave this to me," she whispered. She stood and whirled around. "How dare you! I told you to never disturb me when I'm having my lesson! You're so overprotective, you're lame!"

Taken aback, Takeshi stopped in his tracks. "But Nagi, he doesn't need to sit that close to you—"

"Why? I like having him sit close. Does it bother you, _onii-chan?_ " To emphasize her point, she grabbed Kousei by the shoulders and pressed her flank to him."Maybe I should also complain to Mom when your groupies cling to you like they're pasted on! It's so indecent!"

Takeshi ground his teeth. First a trip abroad with his rival, and now an attempt to steal her affections? This was almost more than a man could bear. "I . . . you'll pay for that, Arima!" He stomped out of the room, banging the door as he left.

Kousei gulped. Nagi, however, let out a short, sharp bark. "Hah!" She sat back down, carefully smoothing the pleated skirt of her uniform. Unbidden, she began to replay _The Snow is Dancing_ , and this time, to Kousei's surprise, its melancholic atmosphere spread and pervaded the music room. Kousei felt transported into Chouchou's place in the greyish darkness, standing bareheaded amid the falling flakes, with Tsubaki standing beside him, all covered up, lower face swathed in that ridiculously long scarf of hers, cheeks flushed pink and smiling eyes colored like honey. She had her arm twined around his; it was a sweet, companionable touch that he made him long for simpler, happier times.

Finishing the piece with a _forte_ flourish, Nagi looked expectantly at her piano teacher. Kousei nodded and smiled broadly at his student.


	7. A Stormy Summer II

**A Stormy Summer**

 **II.**

 **So Kiss Me Goodnight**

 _Je n'ai pas de force, pas d'energie, j'attends toujours un peu de santé pour reprendre tout cela, mais . . . j'attends encore._

 _-Frédéric Chopin._

* * *

With a wave, the high-school girl called out to the young man exiting the front gate of Okutsu.

"Kousei!"

"Tsubaki? What're you doing here?"

"Well, I didn't have classes, so I did a little research. I thought I'd go home with you."

"I see. So that's why you were asking me my schedule."

"Yup."

"You didn't have to go to all that trouble. We could've just as easily met at home."

"I just thought we'd enjoy a walk together, and I was lonely," Tsubaki complained. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Of course I am. I didn't mean to sound like I was complaining. It's just that . . . ." Kousei's eyes cast a furtive glance around them.

Tsubaki noticed and laughed. "I get it! You're afraid your friends will see and they'll tease you. Well, I don't mind giving them food for thought." She stood on tiptoe and gave him a peck on the cheek. "There."

"Thanks. You're all heart." Kousei looked like a spectacled turtle that wanted to retreat into its shell.

"Of course I am." She inclined her head. "Shall we go?"

"I . . . can't. I have a meeting I need to attend."

Tsubaki frowned. "Oh?"

"Yeah. They told me only a couple of minutes ago. Can I see you later?"

"Sorry, but mom and dad and I . . . we're going to my aunt's place in Sendai. We won't be back until the day after tomorrow." With the tip of her shoe Tsubaki drew invisible lines on the rough-textured concrete. "That's why I wanted to see you."

"Oh. What bad luck." Kousei mulled it over. "I've still got some time, why don't we grab something at the convenience store?"

"Better than nothing."

\- - -oOo- - -

Time came and went; sharing warm drinks in an eating nook in the store, Tsubaki had melon bread while Kousei nibbled on a doughnut.

"You're quiet today," she remarked.

"Aren't I always?" Kousei looked out at the lowering sky.

"I mean _quiet_ quiet. Something on your mind?"

"Not really. Dad left on another business trip. And I was thinking I haven't seen Chiaki-sensei since he helped me orchestrate _Garden._ "

"He did?"

"W-well, I did write the thing, but he's more experienced at orchestration. So when I asked Seto-sensei for help, she got me . . . well, him."

"I was wondering why his name was up front in the score sheet. You must have some clout, Kousei, for him to spend some time paying attention to you."

"Actually, it was Nodame-sensei who pushed him into helping me. She and Seto-sensei had a mutual friend."

"Lucky you!" Tsubaki smiled. "Two successful concerts, creating a name for yourself. I'm glad your star is looking up."

Kousei smiled briefly.

"Hey, you should be happier," said Tsubaki. "Something's got you down, and I think I know who it is." She stared intently at him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Tsubaki finished the last of her bread, thinking that since Kousei did love Kaori, it was natural that part of him would forever belong to their dead friend. _And that part of him will always be denied me,_ she thought, squishing the bread wrapper and tossing it onto her tray.

"Chiaki-sensei's a busy man, isn't he?"

"I think so. He's always flying to and fro, giving performances around the world. Noda-sensei always goes with him." Kousei took a sip of his tetra-bricked Moo Moo milk. There was a rumor that the internationally renowned conductor was afraid of flying and needed his wife to calm him enough to get though a flight, but Kousei chalked that up to unfounded garbage. He just couldn't imagine the terrifying, talented Shinichi Chiaki being afraid. "Maybe he's gone back to France."

"Anything you want me to get you in Sendai?"

Kousei shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks. How are _you_ feeling?"

"Me? Oh, fine, I guess. Actually, kind of excited."

"Why?"

"It's a secret."

"Oh?"

Tsubaki nodded emphatically. "Except for a couple of minor aches, I feel terrific." She paused. "Well, I've got an itch you can scratch."

"What is it?"

"I want to know about that painting."

"Oh. I saw it in an art shop and decided to buy it."

"Why that painting?"

"I, uh, just liked the look of it." Kousei looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Mmm? Why nervous all of a sudden? I think it's beautiful."

"You do?"

"You must really miss Kao-chan."

"I . . . well, I did when I decided to buy that painting."

"So you don't now?"

"I still do."

"How does that painting remind you of her? Do you remember the times you performed on stage with her because of it?"

Kousei nodded. He was getting troubled by all of Tsubaki's questions.

Tsubaki picked up her tumbler of moccachino. "She must've looked so beautiful, standing there in her white dress in all those swirling petals."

"Yes, she was beau—what did you just say?" Kousei blinked and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. He squinted at Tsubaki.

"Nothing. When did you first learn that she had . . . passed on?"

"Why are you even asking? When you and Watari told me after the performance." Part of his heart had told him to run as soon as he crossed the threshold to backstage, but he knew he couldn't just leave Seto-sensei to deal with the mess it would make. So he waited, sitting, standing, pacing, shaking so badly Emi and Takeshi, who had returned from the audience, where they had been watching the rest of the field perform—and fall short of Kousei, in their sympathetic judgment—had taken it upon themselves to sit with him. Then he had been called out again onstage, where he grasped the plaque of First Place, a cheque, shook hands with the contest organizers, and had several pictures taken. For form's sake he tried to look composed, but as soon as he entered his assigned waiting room, he saw Watari and Tsubaki standing there, looking miserable, and he knew—he knew it would be fruitless to hurry to Totsuhara. That tiny spark of hope, that he was wrong and Kaori would be waiting for him in the post-op recovery room, or was even still in surgery, had been snuffed out.

"I've always wondered—when we found you backstage, you didn't break down and cry when we told you what had happened to Kao-chan. _You had already started crying._ " Tsubaki blew on her coffee, remembering Kousei's tear-stained face. "Why is that, Kousei? How did you already know?"

"I was . . . I was crying because I was worried about her," Kousei answered. "No one had told me yet. What are you insinuating? If you want to say something, say it directly."

"If I'm going to compete with someone who's already dead," said Tsubaki, "I want to know how alive she still is. I want to know the tiniest thing about her."

\- - -oOo- - -

An uncomfortable silence descended on the pair.

"Look, Kousei . . . I apologize. She makes me jealous. I know there's no way I'll ever beat her memory. Part of your heart belongs to her and will stay that way forevermore. I'm nothing special—I'm just an ordinary girl who likes physical stuff, that's all."

"Don't say that. Believe it or not, you're my best friend and you're special to me. I'm just a guy who can't move on from the past."

"What you've accomplished these past years _is_ the way one moves forward, I think. It may never be easy, but I want you to remember that I'll always be here."

Kousei gave a faint smile. "Thanks."

With peace between them somewhat restored, Tsubaki decided to change the topic of conversation.

"Kousei . . . what can you tell me about Maurice Ravel?"

"Ravel? Oh, he was a French composer in the 1920s. Why?"

"Is that all?"

"Well, he was a contemporary of Claude Debussy, and a kind of rebel," explained Kousei, adopting the air of know-it-all curmudgeon. "Many people in the Paris Conservatoire, a top-ranked music school in France, disliked him and his music. After the First World War, however, he became one of the premier French composers, especially after Debussy's death. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I'm trying to educate myself," Tsubaki answered blithely. "You know, so you don't have to be talking to a wall when you're with me."

"You don't need to do that," Kousei protested. "You've got other things to worry about."

"It's no worry, I'm not studying him or anything, just curious. I heard his most famous work is something entitled 'Bolero.'"

Kousei nodded. "Yeah, that's very popular among his works. He himself didn't like it, though."

"Why is it popular?"

"Pardon?"

"Why do people like it?"

"Well, for the rhythm, I guess. It starts with a single drum, then it keeps on repeating, and Ravel adds more and more instruments until at the end you have this whole texture, the orchestra playing dum dudududum dumdum, dum dudududum dumdum, taaa, taaraaraaraara raraaraa raaraaa . . . . fine, I hope you were pleased with getting me to do that."

"Sorry!" Tsubaki said, stifling a giggle. "You just looked so funny! It seems to have a nice rhythm."

"Yeah. I heard someone call it sexy, and I understand what they mean."

"Sexy classical music? I've never heard of such a thing. Sad, happy, epic, maybe. But not sexy."

"Listen to it, and you'll understand what I mean," Kousei said, unconsciously listening to Ravel in his head, and remembering play-dancing with Kaori to its beat. He totally missed the small smile that fleeted across Tsubaki's lips.

\- - -oOo- - -

Kousei accompanied Tsubaki to the station. There, he had waved goodbye to her as she stood inside the train and doors closed.

"See you in a couple of days, Four-Eyes," she had said, continuing to smile and wave as the Metro express pulled away. Kousei watched the train clickety-clank to the next station, then turned and started walking.

He was lucky he had brought an umbrella. _This is going to be disaster for those going flower viewing,_ he thought. The cherry blossoms had started to open a few days ago; a lot of buds would be stripped from the trees if the drizzle continued. No cherry blossom viewer wanted such an occurrence. _Amayadori, yaezakura, somei yoshino,_ all varieties would suffer casualties due to the strangely inhospitable weather.

The rain continued as he met everyone at Matsuo Hige's house. When the meeting was over, they looked despondently out of the windows. Emily had _tsk_ ed and complained along with everyone else.

"Oh, for the love of truffle-flavored ice cream," she said in English, not caring whether the people around her understood what she said or not. "Now I can't go to Sumida Park and party with my friends."

"You can come with us, if you like," said a girl named Sayumi. She played guitar and sported a stud through her nostril.

"Can I? What'll you be doing?" She shifted in her seat beside the dining room table.

"Nothing much, just hanging out at my dad's club in Roppongi."

"Okay. We can use my mother's car. You coming, Piano Man?" Emily turned and raised wide, feathery brows at Kousei.

"Not tonight, thanks. I've got something to do at home."

"Boring!" said Emily loudly, waving a hand. "How will you ever get a girlfriend, I wonder?"

"Hey, he's doing fine," said their clarinetist, a girl with long black hair in twintails.

"How would you know, Chieko?"

"'Coz I saw him with a girl who sometimes hangs out at our school. She's got brown hair and a toned body." Chieko Watanabe's hands described a slight hourglass figure. "And they were acting like more than just friends, if you know what I mean."

"Hmm! So who is this girl of yours, Kousei-kun?" Matsuno Hige asked. "Where have you been hiding her?"

"She's my next-door neighbor, and I haven't been hiding her."

"Oh, look, he's blushing!" said someone.

"Awww!" chuckled everyone else.

"Will you quit it?" Kousei snapped, nettled by the teasing.

"He's angry!" his friends shouted. "Run for your lives! Flee! Flee!" Only one actually scampered; the others simply stayed where they were and laughed. Emily apologized, but she also pinched Kousei's cheeks until he got totally fed up. He stood abruptly and gathered his things.

"I'm sorry," he said, remembering his missed opportunity to spend time with Tsubaki was caused by these very people. "If you don't need me anymore, I'm going home."

"Please, Kousei, don't be angry. I was just having a bit of fun." She put her hands together and bowed. "I'll play you something as an apology. Don't go."

Kousei stopped and glanced sidelong at her. "What will you play?"

"Promise first."

"Okay, I promise."

Emily went into the next room, dragged her cello out of its case and set it up. She sat down on a chair and did a few scales.

"Now here's something to relax to. Ready?"

"Okay," Matsuno said.

"Tiger Hunt in India!" she exclaimed, and began playing the dissonant staccato notes that brought forth a wail of dismay and laughter from those who had heard the piece before. Emily was . . . different. Every now and then she would punctuate her playing by saying things like "Haha! There it goes!" and "Eeow!," playing grating _jete_ notes that ruined the mood by sounding like elephants blowing reedy piccolos but brought tears to everyone's eyes. Matsuno and Sayumi ended up on the floor, clutching their bellies in laughter. Emily kept on looking Kousei's way, locking eyes with him, and when she played those glissandos he actually felt himself pulled towards or repelled from her, depending on whether she was playing ascending or descending.

When it was over, she wiped her forehead, hugged her cello, and addressed Kousei. "Did that calm your nerves, Piano Man?"

"No."

"Good," Emily declared, winking at him.

"You know that kind of music was never meant to relax anyone. It's kind of like Chopin's _Wrong Note_ etude, a demonstration of technicality and virtuosity. You didn't tell the truth, Emily-san."

"You're right, Professor Arima. I lied because it's so hard to get your attention sometimes. Alright, here, this won't be a trick anymore." She paused for a minute, gathering herself and recalling things. Then she played a slow, uplifting piece that caused everyone to fall silent. The full-bodied, solitary voice of the cello evoked in Kousei images of geese rising from a brown, sparse field, calling to each other before setting off in Vees on a journey towards wintering grounds in some faraway land, waiting, waiting for an opportunity to come back when the world was reborn.

As Emily played the last passage, extending the final note in a wavering tremolo, unwilling to end the piece, Matsuno was heard to comment "Wow."

Chieko sighed and looked past the blond-haired girl, out the window at the fading rain.

"What's the title?" asked Sayumi in a quiet voice.

" _Memory._ " As she lowered the bow, Emily asked, "Is my apology accepted, Kousei?"

The pianist with the affectionately rumpled hair nodded. "Twice over."

\- - -oOo- - -

With the soulful sound of the cello still playing in his mind, he paused at a convenience store to buy something to eat before going home. He didn't mind eating ready-made. With Tsubaki gone and Kaori unreachable in her little fortress, tonight promised to be a solitary time, and he wasn't that interested in food just then.

\- - -oOo- - -

Kousei unlocked the front door. A few motion sensors switched on some floor lamps and strip lighting, welcoming him to his empty domicile. Donning slippers, he deposited his bag on the sofa and went into the kitchen to heat his omelette and vegetablesin the microwave.

After finishing his food, he trudged upstairs, bag in hand, thinking of finishing what little schoolwork he had left before practicing some and going to bed. As he was sitting down and writing, he heard the doorbell ringing.

Kousei put his pen down. Who was that? Maybe it was Dad, come back home early. Or maybe Tsubaki. Or Watari, though his visits had become rarer over the months.

He bounded down the stairs. "Who is it?" he called, peering through the peephole.

"Kousei? Hey, it's me."

"Kaori?" Kousei flung the door open. There stood a five-foot-four-inch waif in the incandescent entrance light, dressed all in black: black sweater, black vest, black-framed glasses with black patch, black pants, black sneakers, with a black hood covering her face. She stood there expectantly, hands behind herself, a smile playing around on her face.

"I didn't expect to see you," Kousei said in wonder, ushering her in.

She pulled a small package from her vest. "Happy birthday."

Kousei smiled. "And here I was thinking everyone had forgotten it." Then he smacked his forehead with his palm. "But I didn't prepare anything . . . ."

"It's okay. I anticipated that and bought a little something." Kaori stepped outside for a moment and came back in with a long cardboard box.

"Here, let me have that." Kousei took the box from her. "What's with the getup?"

"Hmm? Oh, this?" Kaori gestured at herself. "Nothing, I wore it just in case."

Kousei shut the door. "Just in case . . . ?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.

The girl with the pale hair laughed nervously. "Just in case I had to break into your house."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"I know, I know, it sounds bad. I didn't know if Tsubaki was here, so I was going to sneak upstairs and leave this in your room if she was."

Kousei eyed her warily. "Y'know, I was going to ask how you planned to reach the second story and open the door, but maybe I don't want to know."

"Oh, that's easy. Johann came with me." She said it like it explained everything. "He'll be back in a couple of hours. Aaand I got permission from my parents to come over." Kaori grinned. "So I'm legit."

 _Except for planning a bit of breaking and entering,_ thought Kousei. He mentioned it to her.

"Well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm," Kaori said contritely. "If you think that was bad, I'm glad you don't know what else I've had to do these past three years."

"I'm listening," Kousei said coolly.

"Why are you being so judgmental?" she asked, folding her arms and looking at him.

"I'm not trying to judge you." He turned and looked at her. "I just realized that I know nothing of how you spent those years."

"That's the way to learn, then, bad things first?"

"No, no. Forget I said that. I'm . . . happy enough you're with me today."

He continued into the kitchen, where he opened the box and began to slice the cake inside. Kaori caught his hand.

"Hey, let me do that. Go and sit in the living room."

After a few minutes, Kaori emerged, carrying a tray of chocolate cake slices and little saucers of candy and fruit jellies. "Couldn't find your tea," she remarked. The saucers trembled a little as she set them on the table.

"It's in the cupboard—I'll be right back."

Kousei returned bearing two steaming cups of brew.

"Hope you like _houjicha_ ," he said.

"That's fine." Kaori turned the volume of the TV down. "Please open your present first."

Kousei picked at the tape holding the giftwrap together. He ended up with a video disc in a jewel case.

"Am I supposed to guess what's in this?"

Kaori smiled. "Read the label."

"Oh." There was something printed on the disk, in transfer letters so small Kousei had to move and catch brighter light to read them.

 _Contestant Performances, Eastern Japan Piano Competition_

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Probably." Kaori looked pleased with herself.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but I already have this."

"Not this one. Trust me. There were three cameras set to record on that day. You folks—Takeshi Aiza, Emi Igawa, and everyone else—were only given a compilation made from two. No footage from the third was included."

"Why?"

"Watch that, and you'll see."

Kousei's father had installed a media player under the TV. Into this went the disk. Then he pressed the play button.

"Fast forward to your turn," said Kaori.

Kousei did as she instructed, and there he was, seated in front of the Steinway Model D grand piano in his blue suit and black tie. Screen-Kousei began to play Ballade No.1. Without taking his eyes off the TV, real-Kousei began casting around for Kaori's hand. He used it to pull her toward him.

"Kousei?"

"Just stay where you are, okay?"

"Oh." She squeezed his hand. "Don't worry."

Kousei made a noncommittal noise.

To his own ear—and every artist knows that the most severe critic of all is usually one's own self—he sounded acceptable. Then it came to bar 106, the moment when Kaori joined him in playing.

There was no violin. He played the entire piece by himself, and it came to him as somewhat of a shock, as it did when he watched it before. Back then, he felt like reality was mocking the final, beautiful memories of her on stage with him, so he shelved the video and didn't look at it again.

But something queer was happening on stage . . . . At first he attributed it to a fault with the TV, or possibly the videocam, which would explain why its footage was never used in the compilation. At times blue flashes would flicker in front of his on-screen persona, obscuring his seated figure and sometimes even the piano itself. At one point the blue flashes were replaced by a cascade of pink. Then the stage lights returned and highlighted his upturned, tear-streaked face.

"You are cruel, Kaori Miyazono. Why would you give me a copy of this?"

"But . . . didn't you see? I was . . . sorry, I was careless. Didn't you notice anything strange?"

"All I see is something funky going on with the lights and . . . and some of the saddest moments in my life, recorded for posterity . . . ." He looked at Kaori. Her eyes were wide open and staring at him, unblinking indigo-blue, and except for her paler visage and the lack of the flower hairclip, she looked just as she did back then . . . .

"I think . . . I think I'm beginning to understand." He glanced at the empty jewel case on the low living room table. He cleared his throat. "Thank you. Speaking of gifts, why don't we take a pic of ourselves?" he suggested.

"Nice idea! But you could get into trouble," Kaori cautioned. "Be sure to hide it well."

"I will. Just a sec, there's a good camera upstairs."

Kousei dashed upstairs and came back down with a full-size digital SLR and a camera bag. He set up in short order, making sure he had his own blank memory card in the camera, and took several pictures with Kaori.

After stowing the camera, they returned to the table and their meal. Kousei rewound the video and paused at Emi Igawa's playing of Etude in A Minor Op.25, No. 11, better known as _Winter Wind_.

"How'd you find out about this recording?"

Taking a sip of hot tea, Kaori said, "Detective work by Hikaru-san and myself. I wanted something of you to keep with me before I left Japan. When she requested a copy of the performance and talked to the people who worked at the Hall, she happened to notice the discrepancy between the camera angles and the number of cameras that were actually in place at the time of the _concours_. I guessed there was probably footage that was never used. Hikaru had this friend of hers who came up with the missing track—they were going to delete it and reuse the tape. The rest is history."

"Does Hikaru-san know? About you and me, what happened at that time?"

"No. She kept on pestering me why I wanted to see that recording so much—'it's awful quality,' she kept saying—I might have given something away, but I don't think she knows. Or else she'd have dropped me like a hot rock. I don't think she accepts cuckoo clients." Kaori chuckled.

"You know, even now it shocks me to see that I played the entire Ballade alone—it leaves me feeling empty. How was that even possible?"

"Who knows?" Kaori answered, shrugging. "Perhaps you were hallucinating. Perhaps it was all a dream. Perhaps I'm not really here, you know, and you're talking to a figment of your imagination. All I know is that I was there with you."

"And I you." Kousei clasped Kaori's hands together. "Kaori . . . ."

"What?"

"You're really here, aren't you? I'm not going insane?"

"Touch me, Kousei." She took his hand and placed it on her cheek. "Your hand is so warm," she whispered. "Isn't this enough proof that this isn't a dream?"

Kousei brought her hands up—those thin, long-fingered hands—and gently caressed them. "You're right," he said, his breath tickling Kaori's alabaster skin, "it isn't." He leaned closer to her.

Kaori turned her head away. "Kousei, I . . . I'm . . . kind of nervous about this."

Kousei, whose own heart pounded so hard he was sure Kaori could hear it, said "So am I."

"Ah, at least you've had practice kissing. I . . . haven't." Kaori blushed furiously.

"Kaori, I've kissed a girl a total of three times and I've never had practice kissing _you_. We're nearly even, so you only need to be as nervous as I am."

Kaori laughed uneasily. "To be honest, I want something from you." She snuggled against Kousei. "Something you might not be able to give."

Kousei smoothed her hair. "You've only to name it."

"I want you to help me forget." Her voice was muffled by their clothes.

"Forget what? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"So many things, Kousei." She looked up at him, her countenance sad. "I always believed the stars should shine brighter at the end of one's road. I'm almost at the end of mine, but all I see around me is the dark." She took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is . . . make me yours. Be a light for me."

Kousei felt his heart leap. He felt a strange comingling of joy and sadness surge through his veins. "Are . . . are you sure?"

She nodded, her face still red. "I trust you."

Kousei put his arms around her, and Kaori returned the embrace.

"I've been waiting for this . . . for so long."

"Me too."

"I guess we'll have to endure Hikaru-san's teasing," Kaori said.

Kousei chuckled. "I guess." Then he remembered. "I'll be the one to explain to Tsubaki, okay? I won't mention your name."

"Not alone, you won't. I'll stand by you."

"But—"

"I think I owe it to Tsubaki," Kaori insisted.

They were silent for a while. "She'll never forgive me," said Kousei. "This is the second time I've done this to her."

"Second?"

He told Kaori about the gala concert.

"I already know about that. Still . . . what have I done?"

Still absorbing this new piece of information, Kousei corrected her. "What we've done." He held the pale girl's hands up, pressing them to his chest. "Since we're already in it, let's seal our guilt."

"What do you mean?"

Kousei moved his face closer to Kaori's. She leaned forward slightly. As their lips tenderly met, tears began to well in her eyes.

Just then the front door swung open. "Kou-sei!" a lilting voice called. "Why'd you leave the door unlocked? The trip got canceled—"

Tsubaki Sawabe stopped dead in her tracks at the entrance to the living room. She stood transfixed for a couple of seconds. Then she screamed.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you for the kind words. Again, a difficult chapter to write. Also, I'm sorry I introduced Ravel into the story again. See, this was a much more adult chapter in the beginning, and Bolero had something to do with it. Much thanks to samhain83, AKA the girl from Wien, Austrian_ prinzessin _of the feet of flames, coffee connoisseur, and Viking tamer._


	8. A Stormy Summer III

**A Stormy Summer**

 **III.**

 **My Lie**

* * *

Kousei and Kaori broke apart, the panicked girl shying behind the startled boy, averting her face from the intruder.

To Kousei's alarm Tsubaki slowly fell to a kneeling position. "What's that? What's that?" she kept repeating, her hands clutching in front of her, her eyes staring wildly into nothing,

"Tsubaki . . . ." Kousei said, taking a tentative step toward her.

She let out a shriek. "Don't come near me! Y-you filthy, disgusting—"

Kousei stepped forward and grasped her by the shoulders. "Tsubaki!"

The brown-haired girl blinked, eyes focused on a point somewhere past Kousei. "Don't—stuffy here . . . ." She fell forward.

Kousei caught her in his arms. "Hey! Tsu-chan? Tsu-chan!" Tsubaki didn't answer. Her body was limp and heavy.

"Kaori, please help me—" Kousei whirled around. The room was suddenly empty; his blond visitor was nowhere in sight.

\- - - oOo - - -

"Unh." The unconscious figure moved on the couch. Kousei adjusted the warm, wet washcloth on her head.

Mrs. Sawabe looked out of the kitchen. "Is she coming around?"

Kousei nodded.

Tsubaki opened her eyes, grimacing. She saw him. "Did anybody get the number of the truck?" she groaned.

"What happened to you?" Kousei asked. "One moment, you're screaming your head off, the next you're falling. And are you putting on weight, by any chance?"

Tsubaki clouted him on the noggin.

"Ow!" He looked down at her. "Sorry. How are you?"

Tsubaki tried to sit up and found that the room was apparently made of nauseating, wobbly jelly.

"Wait, don't force yourself—"

"I'll be fine in a minute or two," said Tsubaki. "It . . . it all seems fuzzy. I saw something, but I can't remember what it was."

Kousei blinked. "You can't?"

"Not at the moment." Tsubaki's eyes narrowed. "I don't like that expression on your face."

"What expression?"

"You look like you're relieved."

"I am, now that you're okay. C'mon, just lie down and rest a bit." Kousei coaxed. "Your mom's here. I called her."

"And while you're resting, Tsubaki," said a voice, "maybe you can explain what happened." They both looked up to see Tsubaki's mother standing just outside the kitchen, balled fists on her hips.

"I don't know," replied Tsubaki. "I remember opening the door—dummy Kousei left it unlocked. Then I felt . . . some powerful emotion come over me. I found it hard to breathe. Next thing I find myself on the sofa." She gasped.

"What is it?" asked both Kousei and Tsubaki's mom.

Tsubaki's arms crossed over her chest. "You didn't do anything to me, did you?"

Kousei smacked his forehead. "No, I didn't!"

Tsubaki's mother looked him up and down. "You know, Kou-chan, as much as I like you, if you so much as twist a hair on my daughter's head—"

Kousei threw his hands on his face, as if he were trying to blind himself. "It's a conspiracy! I'm slighted!"

Tsubaki wanted to laugh, but she was still trying to get the jelly to stop shaking so much. So she smiled instead. "I was just kidding."

 _With your mom in the room, how wonderful,_ Kousei wanted to wail. "Seriously," he said, "can't you remember anything?"

"I can't. But I remember the feeling."

"Maybe you have something to add, Arima-kun," Tsubaki's mother prompted.

"It happened just like she said—she came in, I was watching TV, and she became hysterical and shouted, and then she said it felt stuffy, and lost consciousness." Inwardly, Kousei cringed at his outrageous lie and begged forgiveness from Tsubaki.

After a half hour Tsubaki had recovered enough for her mom to reclaim her and they left. As they closed the gate of the Arima residence, Kousei's childhood friend whispered, "My birthday gift will have to wait." Making sure her mother wasn't looking, she lifted her T-shirt far enough to reveal form-fitting Lycra hugging her stomach.

Kousei's eyes bulged. "What's—?"

"I'll keep it secret for now. Anyway, you'll see. Bye. I'll knock next time. That ought to give any girls you're with a chance to hide." She grinned insouciantly and followed her mom up the lane.

Stepping back inside the house, Kousei's quietly building nervousness came to fore. He made sure to lock the doors before calling out Kaori's name. No one answered, save a gust of wind, which, dampened by the earlier rain, sent its clammy, searching fingers through the house. He had been too preoccupied with Tsubaki and stashing all of Kaori's incriminating things in his room to look for her earlier; he just assumed that she was somewhere inside the house, hiding. Now he silently padded through the building, checking each room, each corner, each cabinet. Each time he found nothing but the ordinary. Quiet, stillness, and dust. When he came to the kitchen, he found one of the windows open and what appeared to be traces of footprints in the soft soil beneath it. Wondering how Kaori could've gotten to this point without Tsubaki noticing her cross the living room, he climbed through and leapt down the other side. To the left was a blank wall. The front of the lot was to his right. There were no additional footsteps he could see in the poorly-lit alley, either on the grass, the gravel, or the pavement.

 _Kaori,_ he thought forlornly as he traversed the wet passage, _where did you go? Did you have to leave me? Where are you?_

He sighed. Obviously she had somehow beat feet. It was difficult but not impossible to scale the wall surrounding their house, although how a physically weak person could have done it was beyond his comprehension. As he prepared to go back inside, he spied a blue-eyed black cat sitting on the low wall, staring at him.

"Hey," he said, "have you seen her? You know, the blonde girl dressed in black? Did she pass this way?"

The cat mewed, but remained on the ledge.

"You hungry?" he asked, to be replied to with the same blank stare.

 _Almost got caught there, didn't you?_

Kousei froze as he reached for the doorknob. He slowly looked at the cat. "Did you . . . ."

 _Thank you for a most interesting evening._

Kousei's hand began to shake.

 _You needn't worry about her. She's fine. Oh, to be young again and in love!_ The cat bared its teeth in a grotesque rictus of a smile. _The pain, the joy, the truths, the lies, the sacrifices. The starlit skies of evening, the bright sun in the morning, the glint of dew on leaves,_ the cat continued. _The sound of a loved one laughing, the bubbling of a brook crossing over stones . . . oh dear, are you feeling ill?_

The voice seemed to clutch his insides with an ice-cold hand, and he trembled. He covered his mouth and barely made it to the kitchen sink before he threw up.

\- - - oOo - - -

"Kousei-kun, welcome!"

"Hino-sensei, excuse me for disturbing you." Kousei bowed.

"Let me guess, you're here about Kao-chan."

He nodded. "Is it possible—"

"It may be." Hikaru folded her arms across her chest. They were sitting at the table in her office. "As soon as it's closing time and you get permission from her parents."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine, except she overexerted herself a bit. Oh, cheer up, Kousei-kun, it's not that bad. She's getting stronger every day." Pursing her lips, she added, "Her parents are even thinking how to get her back on track, academically speaking."

"It's been three years," Kousei remarked. "I'm not sure she'll find it easy."

"She already took a special test in the Education Ministry. She passed it, so she's entitled to skip a grade level. They're quite adamant she go through with the next year in the normal fashion, though." Hikaru frowned. "That means she'll be a year behind you."

"Yes." Kousei shrugged. "Ah, but what's a year? She'll graduate and we'll both be in college."

"You know, that's what I like about you," said Hikaru, smiling. "Steady and on the level, for the most part. Can Kaori handle a relationship with someone such as yourself?"

"What's wrong with being the way I am?"

"Nothing! I didn't say anything was wrong. I'd be the last person to ask about going steady with a quiet and serious guy." She smiled, her gaze directed inward. "My husband was a goofball, but he was a good father. And brave. Too brave." She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. "What I want you to think about—and excuse me for saying this, since I'm not your aunt or anything—is that you and Kaori are, well, first loves. Am I right?"

Kousei's face reddened, but he nodded. "And?"

"Sometimes, you know . . . first loves don't work out. I'm not saying yours won't, don't give me that look. I'm just saying that, for your own sake, you ought to keep that in mind. If something happens, you have to learn to get back on your feet."

Kousei was quiet for some time, pondering the elder woman's words. "I understand, Hino-sensei. But we were separated once, and I've decided: I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn't happen again." Kousei smiled a troubled, helpless smile. "Because, you know, she makes the world more colorful."

\- - - oOo - - -

"Yo."

"Hi, Kousei. Sorry I chickened out on you." Kaori, sitting up in her bed, grinned sheepishly. "I'm not as ready to face Tsubaki as I thought I was."

"I kind of guessed," Kousei agreed. "Of course, it took me hours of searching to realize it, but I'm a bit of a slowpoke when it comes to stuff like that."

Kaori peered at him from her bed. "You aren't too mad, are you? Yes, you are! I'm sorry, I really am." She slid out of bed and bowed low, careful of the IV line stuck into her right forearm. "Lord Arima, forgive me."

"Apology accepted. Now get back there before the doctor sees you and scolds _me_." He gestured towards the line. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's the Kaori-Get-Well tube, full of food so I can be lazy and not have to eat," she brightly replied as she scooted back into bed. "It's just dextrose, don't worry." She held up an outstretched hand. "Well, where is it?"

"Is what?"

"My bribe. Caneles, liqueurs, sakura-mochi, _anything_."

"But you didn't—"

"It's a lovely day outside and I'm cooped up in here!" Kaori wailed. "The rain didn't spoil the flowers so much after all."

"I heard you took an exam to skip a grade level."

"That's true."

Kousei pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down. "And you passed."

"I did."

"Then congratulations . . . you don't seem too thrilled about it."

"Oh, I am. It's just that I remember my friends at Sumiya. Will I ever see them again, I wonder."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Kaori, I brought you a—oh, hello, Kousei-kun." Mrs. Miyazono smiled as she walked into the room, closely followed by Kaori's dad. She bore a tray with a three-tier sandwich and a mug of something steaming. "No, no, don't get up. I'll just place this here." She put the tray on the bedside table.

"No candy?" Kaori asked plaintively.

"Not while you're recovering," her mom said sternly. "You know what happened the last time you sneaked in some chocolate while you were still hooked up."

The pretty violinist looked crestfallen. Her dad laughed.

"I'm glad you're here," he said to Kousei. "Hino-san has called a meeting later. I think you should join us."

"What's it about?" asked Kousei.

"I don't know, but she's been on that satellite phone of hers ever since you got here," answered Mrs. Miyazono. "I have a feeling it's important. Kousei, would you like a snack too?"

Kousei declined, saying he'd go down to the kitchen himself if he needed to. "Please don't trouble yourself on my account, Mrs. Miyazono." He pointed at Kaori. "If anything, she's the one who needs to eat more. Lots more."

"Why?" Kaori asked suspiciously.

"You just look a bit thin, that's all."

"Well then, pardon me for being sick," Kaori said, peeved.

"Hey," Kousei said.

"Kao-chan," her mother warned.

"Sorry. I just get irritated at being held here. I know it's for my safety, but . . . ."

Kaori's dad reached over and patted her on the head. "At least Arima-kun's here. You can be thankful for that."

Kaori looked up and saw Kousei smile at her. Her heart skipped a beat and she quickly found something else to gaze at.

\- - - oOo - - -

The large kitchen had been turned into a meeting room. Seated around the table were Kaori and her parents, Johann, Kousei, Hikaru, the doctor who belonged to Kaori's defunct medical team, and two people Kousei had never seen before. The woman was a classic beauty, with long, flowing black hair reaching to mid-waist; she was wearing a navy-blue dress with a white Peter Pan collar and a long skirt. The man was ruggedly handsome, with a hint of mischief dancing about his dark eyes. He wore jeans, a green t-shirt, and a multipocketed brown vest.

Hikaru started by introducing everyone. When she got to the two, she said, "And no doubt you're wondering who these people are." They bowed. "They are my friends and the ones who helped shape events into what they are today." She gestured. "This is Madoka-san, and Kyousuke-san."

"I'm pleased to finally meet you," the woman greeted them. Her voice was pleasant to hear, slightly low and soft. "We met before, but if you recall, we were in a bit of a rush, so introductions had to be skipped at the time."

"Indeed," said Mr. Miyazono. "But we would not forget what you did for us, and our daughter, complete strangers." He bowed low, his face almost hitting the table. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"We benefited as well, so it wasn't such a big deal." Madoka-san smiled. "I'm happy we were able to help your daughter as well. I am waiting for the day when she can grace us with her music again. That is, if she's planning on continuing that hobby." She turned and addressed Kaori. "When you have the time, come see me. I do a little producing on the side."

"What kind of producing?" asked Kaori.

"Jazz, pop, classical, electronic dance . . . lots of kinds."

Hikaru, seated opposite her, made a show of rolling her eyes. "A little producing on the side, she says. Kaori, don't believe her. She's a well-known insider in the music industry."

"Hikaru-chan, you're exaggerating as usual, and even if you weren't—" here Hikaru shook her head at the others and mimed 'I'm not!' "—that's beside the point. We've brought some news that I think you'll be glad to hear. Now I'll let Doctor Hinemura explain."

The lady doctor, sharp-featured and with hair pinned back into an unruly nimbus of red around her head, nodded at them. "We've made progress on a couple of things," she said in a measured tone. "First is that Kaori's overall prognosis is very positive. We're seeing a few things that would astonish any of my colleagues, if I could be bothered to report to them. Her muscle mass is increasing, tone is getting better, and nerves affected by her illness are—" she cleared her throat "—actually regenerating. So all in all, you're a very lucky lady, Miss Miyazono."

"Doctor, is there any chance my eye . . . ."

"I'm afraid not. I hate to say this, but your optic nerve was destroyed by the preliminary treatment Dr. Ohgisuke applied. It was all new and untested, and all we had to extend your life. If the protocol hasn't brought back your sight by now, then it's unlikely that will change. I'm sorry."

There was a moment of silence as the fact sank in. "Next point is that we—meaning the four remaining doctors who worked under Ohgisuke—have, with the help of Hino-sensei and Ayukawa-sensei and certain agencies, been able to come to an understanding with the people who up till now have been pursuing Miss Miyazono. They have agreed, in principle, to stop trying to kidnap her. Instead, Miss Miyazono will be required to periodically furnish blood samples and brain and spinal scans to them, in exchange for otherwise leaving her untouched." As those assembled broke out in cheers, Hinemura-sensei raised a hand. "I said 'require,' but the matter is totally up to you, Kaori-san."

Kaori shrugged. "If it means I can go back to living a normal life, then I don't have any objections. How often do I have to become a pincushion?"

"Once a week for the first three months. It goes down from there. We will also be submitting all our notes to the concerned parties."

"But sensei," interrupted Mr. Miyazono, "didn't you tell us that your work could be put to terrible use? 'Weaponized,' I believe you said?"

Dr. Hinemura looked troubled for an instant. "I know, but we think we've developed countermeasures to make sure such a thing is unlikely to happen. It was a risk we agreed to take so that Kaori-san . . . could have a chance to live a normal life."

Her countenance serious, Kaori bowed. Then, with a lighter expression, she turned to her parents. "This means I can . . . I can go back to school and everything."

Trying to hold back the tears in her eyes, Mrs. Miyazono nodded.

All of a sudden Kaori stood up, raised her arms, and let out a loud "Wahoo! Thank you so much!"

After the general laughter and applause had died down, Hikaru-san said, "Not so fast. We still have to come up with a coherent cover story for those who'd like to poke their noses into this business. Why did Kaori's parents continue with her funeral, for example, if she was still alive? It's also going to raise a few eyebrows when we request a change in her legal status from 'deceased' to 'alive.'

"Yes, that's certainly going to be unusual. That's where I come in," said the man, speaking for the first time. He sounded confident. "I know a few people in the metropolitan government. We'll start there."

"I'm sure we'll be able to deal with all the questions, Hikaru-sensei," Mrs. Miyazono said. "We continued with the pretense of a funeral to give Kaori additional protection. I will not hide the existence of those-those headhunters to anyone who asks."

"That was my thought as well," said Hikaru. "Kaori's funeral was a cover to give her time to disappear, so to speak. It's the truth, anyway. But it's neither the time nor place to pick a fight with the goons who threatened you, Miyazono-san."

Mrs. Miyazono held her tongue, but the look on her face showed the anger and distress she felt very clearly.

The meeting continued until evening; it turned into a busy supper. Kaori excused herself and left the room; Kousei followed.

" _Anata?_ " Mrs. Miyazono asked, seeing the two leave the room.

"I don't think we need to worry about them," her husband reassured her. "I'm sure they have some things to talk about." After talking to Kousei before, he had faith that the young man would behave like a gentleman, calm and collected, which was what his emotionally labile daughter needed at that time.

\- - - oOo - - -

He found her standing just outside the door in the back of the house, on the path leading to the garden. She had a blue shawl thrown around her shoulders, over the dark gray housedress she wore.

"I am happy," she said without looking at him. "I never thought I'd get this chance, to live a normal life." She sighed a great big sigh. "Free from having Damocles' sword hanging over my head, to boot. It must be a miracle of some sort."

He stood behind her. "Huh?"

Kaori told Kousei the story of Damocles the courtier and the sword that hung over him.

"It must be wonderful, to be able to stop thinking about how little time you have left," commented Kousei.

"Mmm." Kaori stretched. "It feels like a great weight's been lifted from my shoulders. When I was sick, there were many times I wanted to feel depressed, but I kept on fighting it; I didn't want your memories of me to be sad ones. And whenever I was failing, you tried to light the flames of my spirit again. I can never thank you enough."

"I should be the one thanking you. You pulled me out of the shadows I was living in."

"So . . . let's call it even, then?"

Kousei shrugged. "Maybe."

Kaori turned her head towards him. "Maybe?"

"I don't know what the future holds, so . . . maybe."

"Then shall we do our best to fill that future up with happiness?"

"Yeah. I'll need your help." Kousei lightly placed a hand on her shoulder, which Kaori immediately covered with her own.

"Sure."

They stood in silence for some time, unmoving except when Kaori pulled Kousei's arms around her.

"It's strange, but Tsubaki . . . ."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't recall seeing you in the house."

"What?"

"You remember that she fainted?"

"Ah, no. I was already out of there."

"Well, when she came to, she said she saw something, but couldn't remember what it was. I didn't tell her you'd been there. I was also quite surprised to find you had vanished."

Kaori was quiet for a long time, looking out at the still greenness of the garden. "Shall I tell you what happened, Kousei? How I left the house, for one thing. In fact, if you want me to, I'll tell you everything. Who Kaori Miyazono is, why I came back to life, and what I saw in the beyond."

Something in her tone raised the hairs on the back of Kousei's neck. "No! I don't need to know." He put her arms around her and kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulder. "You were born of the sea foam at Paphos. The Zephyr blew you to shore on a scallop shell; the Horae clothed your naked form in glittering robes."

Kaori grasped the arms that were embracing her. She took one of his hands and kissed it. "That sounds sweet, but I'll admit I don't know what you're talking about."

Kousei chuckled. "That's something for you to research, then, _kouhai_. Look up Botticelli."

"Hey, don't go all smug on me just because you're up one grade."

Kousei smiled. "As for you, Miss Violinist, if you're going to disobey the doctors anyway, I want you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

"Start practicing Glinka and Auer's _The Lark._ "

"Why?"

"It's a secret."

"I don't have any sheet music of that."

"I'll give you everything you'll need."

"You certainly will," crooned Kaori, reaching over and pivoting his head with her fingertips. She stood on tiptoe and turned her head to kiss him. His lips were soft and moist, and tasted of the orangey ice cream they had for dessert. She closed her eyes to savor the sensation. It didn't feel anything like kissing flan, which was what one of her classmates in elementary had told her before.


	9. A Stormy Summer IV: The Bet

**Stormy Summer: The Bet**

* * *

"You're really _really_ sure we won't get into trouble because of this?" asked Kousei as he walked with Kaori among the people thronging the busy street.

"Cross my heart. Quit being a worrywart, dah-ling." Kaori stopped to admire a cute purse on display at a stall.

"It's because of you that I _have_ to be a worrywart."

"Well, fine, then," the pale-haired girl sniffed. "You can go home."

"And leave you alone? Nothing doing, Kaori."

"But can you keep up, I wonder?" With a laugh, she giddily dashed in between the people on the street.

"W-wait for me!" shouted Kousei, apologizing as he bumped into several people, trying to keep her in view.

He finally caught up with her outside a glass-fronted shop of some kind. She was standing and watching something inside. Panting, he followed the direction of her gaze. At the same time he also heard a faint, familiar sound.

Inside was a studio of some sort, with an upright piano against the further wall and pale tan paneling. There were a couple of chairs in the middle of the room, and on this sat a girl with blond hair, cradling a cello between her knees, eyes closed as she played her instrument.

They could barely hear the music, but at that moment something else was engaging Kousei's attention.

"Emily?"

"What?" Kaori asked.

"That's my classmate at Okutsu," explained Kousei, gesturing in the direction of the long-sleeved cello player.

"You think they'll let us in?" Kaori asked, mischief dancing in her eyes. "I want to listen."

"Well . . . nothing ventured, nothing gained." They entered the small reception area.

\- - - oOo - - -

In the end they gained entrance into the studio, but the person in charge said they could only wait in the vestibule outside the practice room. That was fine with Kaori, who could hear the music, but Kousei asked her if they could wait for Emily to come out, as her time was almost up anyway.

They sat in the vestibule for around ten minutes, listening to the cello start-stopping as its player learned a new piece, a familiar series of sounds they both were sure they made themselves when practicing. Read the score, play, make mistake, go back and agonize over the passage, and do it over. Again and again. Neither cared much about the mistakes—for one thing, they didn't recognize the piece that was being played, and they both liked listening to the rich, sonorous sound of the cello. It was like something trying to talk to them in an unknown language, deep and solitary, reaching back from the time before man could make words and trying to carry those meanings into an unknown future.

"I can almost see her bouncing around on her chair," Kousei whispered. They sat on the floor, on their bags. If Kaori sat a bit close to Kousei, well, he didn't mind.

Kaori shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"If you ever watch her when she plays, you'll understand." He described Emily's habit of being physical when she played.

"Oh, like me?" Kaori whispered.

"No, you're nowhere near as . . . violent . . . as her. And I noticed that when I saw you playing recently that you concentrate more on your hands than other movements."

"Of course, I have to." Kaori scrunched her face up in thought. "Try playing with leather gloves on and you'll get an idea of what it feels like when I play."

"Ah." Kousei put an arm around her. She looked mildly surprised, then decided to lean against him.

"It's getting better, though. I hope it improves to the point where I can seriously perform again." The cello in the room played an uplifting measure capped by a long, hopeful note, then did a timid _spiccato_ back down into quiet, like a shy girl tremulously running down a spiral staircase, back into her room after getting a glimpse of her suitor in her father's study.

\- - - oOo - - -

At one point, as they listened, she suddenly grabbed Kousei by the arm. Biting her lips, she said, "I wish I had my violin."

"You heard what the doctor said. Practice and patience." Kousei patted her unruly fluff of hair. "I'll gladly be your accompanist. And this time you won't have to leave sheet music taped to the walls of the music room."

"I don't mean 'play around' play, I mean _play_ play _,_ like before."

"Who's the worrywart now?" Kousei jibed. Seeing Kaori frown, he quickly followed with, "I'm sorry. But there are so many other things you could do if that ever came to pass. You could switch instruments, for example. Or you could continue painting."

"I used to study piano," Kaori squeaked in self-parody, "until I watched this boy play the piano and decided I wanted to play the violin instead, so he could accompany me!" She sighed. "How corny can you get?"

"I don't think it's corny for a 5-year-old," Kousei returned, eyeing her sidelong. "I think it puts more pressure on me to be successful," he said gloomily.

Kaori imagined small storm clouds circling his head. To get his mind off his depressing train of thought, she said, "I suppose you're right. I could switch to flute, or kazoo, or something. Or keep on painting. But no tubas, please. Can you imagine me carrying one?"

"Yes." He grinned. "Like a turtle with a weird shell."

"And when I walk I go 'Poot, poot, poot,' is that it?"

Kousei chortled, trying to stifle his laughter.

\- - - oOo - - -

"Piano Man!" exclaimed the tall, curvy blond as she exited the rehearsal room. She had put on a brown leather coat. "What are you—"

"Hi, Miss Beanpole. I was passing by and decided to wait so I could tell you—you sounded fa-byoo-roos."

"Thank you," she said shyly. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh. Emily Bonaventure, Kaori Miyazono. Crazy cello player, meet crazy violin player."

Kaori bowed, while Emily extended her hand, then withdrew it and followed suit. Both of them looked annoyed at Kousei.

"Hey, that's a real nice way to introduce someone," Kaori said.

"Yeah."

"My revenge on both of you," Kousei announced, grinning. "You're always hitting me and stuff."

"Oh, you mean like this?" Emily quickly caught hold of Kousei's cheeks, even though he tried to avoid her hands by retreating behind Kaori. With an expression parts sad and mischievous, she pulled on them as if they were made of taffy. "I'm so sorry, dear Kousei."

"And this?" Kaori asked, joining in by filching his glasses and wearing them, so she had two pairs on. Then she pinched his shoulder unmercifully hard. "You're right, sweet Kousei, I shouldn't do it. Sorry."

Standing manhandled in the middle of it all, Kousei looked from one girl to the other. "What have I done? The world will never be the same, and it's all my fault!"

"Stop shouting," Emily admonished. "There are other people practicing, you know." She glanced across at Kaori. "How about a snack or two? Kousei's treat, of course."

"Sure!" Kaori agreed.

\- - - oOo - - -

Several minutes later, they were at a small restaurant, polishing off assorted confectioneries, Kousei sitting in the middle, with Emily on the left and Kaori on his right.

"You didn't really think we'd be crass enough to empty your wallet, did you?" Kaori innocently asked him, a spoonful of buttered strawberry waffle midway between plate and mouth.

Kousei kept on silently prodding his slice of cherry cake.

"Why are you so stiff, Arima-san?" Emily gingerly touched Kousei's shoulders. He shot upright, as if touched by a live electric wire.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he blurted. Was it just Kaori's imagination, or were his glasses actually a bit fogged?

"Are we making you nervous?" she asked when he grumbled at his dessert. "Out with it, Kousei. Or I'm going to jab you with this fork."

"I'm fine!" Kousei said emphatically. "It's just that . . . are you sure you don't know each other?"

"I never saw her before in my life," replied Emily.

Kaori nodded. "Ditto. When did you first meet him?" she asked Emily.

"Oh, I met him in Germany some years ago. I was studying cello and met this rather pleasant young man, who looked so much like a lost puppy you couldn't help but fawn over him—not that I fawned, you understand. It's just that I never met anyone from Japan before. We were partnered in the Young People in Concert exhibition. I thought he was interesting." She cast a mournful look Kaori's way. "He said I was too big and hideous and uncultured because I accidentally chased him around the stage with my cello one time . . . ." Emily sighed.

"Now hold on there—I never said you were big or hideous _or_ uncultured." Kousei turned to Kaori. "I only said she was tall to Koharu. Koharu, _Seto-sensei's kid_. I mean, look at her. She's taller than Watari, for goodness' sake. And how does one 'accidentally' chase a person around with a Peresson, eh, Emily? Hmm?"

"I know what you mean, Emily," Kaori interjected, touching the back of her hand to her forehead. "The first time we met, I caught him taking upskirt pictures of me with his cellphone—poor, defenseless me!"

Emily accentuated her gasp with a hand on her chest. "No! Kousei, how could you?"

"It was an accident, for crying out loud," Kousei protested, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "She was on a jungle gym with some kids playing 'A Morning of the Slag Ravine' and I thought they looked cute, so I took a picture of them. I had no idea the wind was going to blow at that moment. When she saw me she instantly came to the wrong conclusion and attacked me—with a recorder and two pianicas, no less."

Kaori fished a cellphone out of her blouse's waist pocket. With a few keystrokes she called up a picture and showed it to Emily, keeping it from Kousei's sight. "Courtesy of Mr. Pianist here," she said. "I got it off his phone."

"Oh Em Gee," said Emily, gazing at the photo. She looked despairingly at the object of their attention. "Kousei. I . . . I can't believe this—I thought you were a gentleman . . . ."

Kousei's eyes were moist with tears ready to be shed and his mouth was already trembling at the unfairness of it all when Kaori turned the cellphone to him. "There," she said. The picture showed her dressed in black, impishly giving him a kiss on the cheek. It had been taken during her nocturnal visit on his birthday.

"What—" he managed to say, obviously confused.

"We were just joking!" Kaori said loudly. "That's all it was!"

"I apologize as well. Don't take it so seriously, Kousei. It was just a bit of fun at your expense."

Kousei blinked rapidly. "I . . . you two are unbelievably good. Of-of course, I knew you were playing all along."

Emily looked at Kaori. "I think we might have overdone it."

"I know. Hey, we already said we're sorry." She reached out and gently ran a finger over the edge of Kousei's left eye. "Don't cry, you dummy."

"I-I'm not crying."

"Smile if you're not."

Kousei managed the type of grimace one normally saw on skulls.

Kaori stroked his hair, and gave him an indirect kiss using her finger. "I honestly didn't mean to make you cry."

Emily cocked her head at Kaori. "Are you his girlfriend?"

Kaori turned pink. "Y-you could say that. I met him some time ago, but we haven't been a couple for very long." She turned to Kousei and smiled. "But I love him lots. I'd do anything for him."

"Woah. Why?"

Kaori just smiled.

Sporting a beet-red face, Kousei stood up. "Going to the little boys' room for a bit."

When he left, Emily spoke to Kaori, keeping her voice low. "Nice save. Don't think I didn't notice."

"No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have taken the joke so far. Kousei's fragile. He's been through a lot in his life." Kaori looked up from her food. "He's like Venetian glass, beautiful but easy to break."

"And there's no way of fixing it, other than melting it again in a furnace?" suggested Emily.

Kaori nodded.

"It's funny, but . . . I understand what he was trying to say a while ago. Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"I would never forget someone like you," commented Kaori.

"I feel strange—like I know what you're thinking, what you're going to say, before you say it."

"So I'm not the only one feeling that way."

"When did you start playing the violin?"

"Um, when I was about five. I stopped three years ago."

"Why?"

"I was very sick until recently. Ask Kousei—he knows all about it. I dragooned him as my accompanist during a music competition. Then something happened, and we couldn't see each other for a while. Why do you ask?"

"There's something about the way you look," answered Emily. "A light that has nothing to do with the sun, a kind of . . . spirituality that sort of makes a person glow." Emily scratched her head. "Hahah, that went quickly into Weirdland."

"I understand what you're getting at." Kaori finished the last of her ice cream. "Though I've never heard anyone speak about it. Who do you like among the classical crowd?"

"Umm . . . I'd say Brahms, Elgar, and Bach. Honestly, though, I don't really care where a piece comes from, as long as I like it. What about you?"

"Oh, f'fff. Lots, and same as you, I don't really stick to one composer. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Well . . . I reserve the right to answer it or not. Good enough for you?"

Kaori nodded.

"Ask away."

"Are you interested in Kousei?"

Emily looked askance at Kaori, then laughed. "No, I'm not. He's a nice person, but I like cool boys better." She smiled a teasing grin. "Do I detect a bit of jealousy?"

"I'm not jealous," Kaori vehemently replied. "You're welcome to try and chase him, if you want. But I'll have you know I'm not the only one interested in him."

"Wow—Chieko was right. Kousei _is_ doing fine in the girls department."

"Who's Chieko?"

"Our classmate. She said she saw Kousei with a girl at Okutsu. Someone with a nice body and brown hair. She said they were pretty chummy."

"Oh." There was no doubt in Kaori's mind that the girl was Tsubaki.

"You mean you're fine with him seeing this other girl?"

"She's his childhood friend. And she's been in love with him for a long time, although I think Kousei's only starting to see it now. I'm . . . ." Kaori sighed. "I'm sort of a secret in his life. Emily?"

"Hmm?"

"Please help me keep it that way." Kaori put a finger to her lips.

Emily eyed her with the same look that one would give, say, a fox that had begun to speak. "If you don't want me to talk about it, I won't." She mimicked Kaori's gesture. "If I were in your place, though, I'd yell that Kousei was mine and anyone else could go jump in a river."

A throat was cleared behind them. "I didn't know I was up for grabs."

Both girls blanched. Kaori felt someone's breath, warm and wispy, tickle her left ear. "We'll talk later. Understand?" came the whisper.

She swallowed. "Roger."

\- - - oOo- - -

"Moooovieeeeetime!" Kaori gleefully squealed. The place was filled to the rafters with people, and it was only through some minor miracle that Kousei had managed to procure tickets for both of them. They had invited Emily, but—paragon of frankness that person was—she said she didn't want to be a third wheel, and could they get a room before everyone was slipping around on the residue of their ardent gazes? Kousei turned into Mr. Tomato-head, keeping his head down, looking fixedly at his lap, while a scandalized Kaori challenged 'Mizz Binpohru' to a play-off. The grand prize would be Kousei acting as the winner's manservant for a day.

Emily smiled hugely at them. "You're on! We get to pick our respective pieces?"

Kaori nodded, looking up at Emily. "We choose three pieces, write them down on slips of paper and the other player gets to pick one." Kousei was reminded of the Biblical David facing off against a towering Goliath.

"Three? That's a bit too much, don't you think?"

"Afraid you can't handle it?"

"Two will be fine. You're in no shape to challenge me."

"No, I want three!"

"Two!"

Emily slapped her palm down on the table. "We'll let Kousei decide!" They both turned and transfixed him with their stares.

"Oi, don't I get a say in this?" he ventured quietly. His answer was an earsplitting "No!" from both girls. Other people in the eatery looked at them.

"Fine, then. Two only." He paused. "I'll choose the judges, the place and the time."

"Right. This sounds interesting. Good luck, Kaori-san."

"You too, Emily."

Something beeped in Emily's small handbag, and she rummaged through it and brought out a yellow cellphone. She read the message in it and said, "Oh, I have to go. We have a guest and my dad wants me back. It was nice meeting you, Kaori. If you ever need someone to help you deal with Kousei, give me a call. I feel I have to warn you, though." They had exchanged namecards during the meal—actually Emily gave Kaori her card, and Kaori wrote her name and address on a small slip of paper she gave to the other girl. She couldn't have done anything else without Hikaru-san's go-ahead.

"About what?"

"You know what they say about cellists—we can't keep our legs together. Take care of your boyfriend," she called over her shoulder, turning and walking away, looking classically stylish in her leather coat as she carried her cello in a soft bag slung over her right shoulder.

As they watched her leave, Kaori said, "Where'd you find such a piece of work?"

"I told you, Kronborg Academy in Germany."

She looked at him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not scolding me. I know, I shouldn't have done it. But I couldn't back down."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

Kaori didn't reply for a time, and Kousei simply stayed with her, watching the people pass by on the street.

"Both. Will you help me?"

"Be your accompanist?" The gentle tumult of city sounds was all around them; cars honking, people speaking, the soft announcements and echoing ads playing over various PA systems. "Of course."

Kaori smiled her thanks. "Maybe this is the way I'll get back on my own two feet," she said quietly. Struck by the apprehensive bleakness in her expression, whatever comments Kousei had died aborning in his throat.

\- - - oOo - - -

Kousei's fingers drummed a restless tattoo on the armrest as they waited for the movie to start. Personally, he wasn't that familiar with the title, but Kaori seemed eager to watch it. It warmed his heart to see her looking so animated, as she was before.

A tap on the shoulder interrupted his observation of the people around them. Kaori sat back in her seat, handed him a small paper bag of caramel popcorn, and leaned on her armrest towards him.

"I thought we were going to talk or something."

He shook his head. "In the patisserie, you didn't notice me standing behind you at all?"

"Nope."

"I just loved the way you two argued over me like I was a prize cow or something. So I decided to make you sweat a little." He smiled.

"Hmph!" Kaori snorted, folding her arms. "Humph!"

"Look, if you—"

Swifter than Kousei could react, Kaori shoved a sugar-dusted churro into his mouth. "That should keep you quiet."

"Mmmh! Mhmm mm hhh mhhk mmmhh!"

The waggling pastry stick elicited a laugh from Kaori. "That's so funny. Let me get my cell—" She suddenly found herself the surprised recipient of a similar handful, this time of caramel popcorn.

"Hhhh! Hhh hhwwhh ouuhhhuur!"

Kousei mad-minute chewed and swallowed enough of the doughy treat to enable him to reply. "Does it taste nice, Kao-chan? I know you like sweet stuff!"

Kaori did the same. "You're cruel!" she exclaimed as she brushed kernels off her crocheted jacket.

"Well, you started it!" The two eyed each other angrily, Kaori's flushing cheeks still adorned with popcorn crumbs and Kousei with a piece of churro still poking out the side of his mouth like a twisty cigar. As Kaori watched, the tip of the churro broke off and fell forlornly to the floor. Kousei saw the incongruous sight of fluffy bits of popped corn stuck on the dark lens of Kaori's glasses.

Kaori started to laugh. Little popcorn bits fell off her cheeks and nose, and within seconds Kousei found himself laughing along with her. As he watched her laugh, he felt a sweet ache in his heart and wished he could spend forever with her like this. _I don't believe it,_ he thought, _but I'm falling more for her than I thought possible._

\- - - oOo - - -

When the lights dimmed and the opening credits started to roll, the pair, having cleaned up, settled back in their seats. Hands touching on the armrest, they momentarily forgot their cares as they watched _Gate the Movie: Thus the JSDF Fought!_ and the antics of Captain Youji Itami, the demi-goddess herald, Rory Mercury, and their friends and allies.

* * *

 _A/N: I'm sorry it took so long again to put this out. (I don't know how it caught fire in the first place). Sorry for the mess with the chapter titles: this story was supposed to be only four chapters long. But one thing led to another, and another, and another . . . . But every story has an end, at least on paper, and every song has to die away in silence, or new ones will never take their place. It is coming. Patience.  
_

 _Why choose Gate as the anime? Why mention it at all? Basically it has something to do with voice actresses, namely who plays Rory and Giselle. Also, I originally wrote in a scene where Rory and Giselle are fighting over Itami, paralleling the conflict between Kaori and Tsubaki over Kousei. But it sucked (as usual) so I shortened everything to what you see above). What conflict, you ask, when I've had them avoiding one another so far? The one that I already have planned but am too chicken to write down.  
_

 _As for Emily . . . originally a Kaori replacement, she now stands as a sort of reminder of someone whom Kaori might have been modeled on._


	10. A Stormy Summer: Shinjuku Lagoon

**Shinjuku Lagoon  
**

 _My obsession with being alive is also your fault._

 _-Kawori Miyazono_

* * *

Kousei was at Hikaru's house, helping Kaori pack.

Clapping her hands to get rid of the dust, she remarked, "It seems I just got here yesterday. I won't miss this room much, though. Nothing happy happened here . . . except when we met again!" She turned and jumped into his arms. "Gotcha!"

"Hey!" Kousei caught her in a surprised embrace. "It's kind of like a miracle I ever found you."

"No it wasn't." Kaori pulled her head back and grinned at him. "I made it all happen."

"Sure. If I hadn't happened to pass by the art shop, where would we be now?"

The grin turned into a frown. "Do you want me to answer that? I don't even want to think about it."

"Neither do I." Kousei smiled ruefully. "If they make a statue of me one day, it'll have to be one with its big mouth open." He gestured at the cardboard boxes Kaori had just taped shut. "Is this everything?"

She nodded, pushing the long sleeves of her shirt up. "Heaviest one first, I guess?"

They struggled into the corridor with one big box, which they left with a growing pile of suitcases and bags near the _genkan_.

"This ought to be enough," Kaori appraised. "Wait a minute, please. I'll just tell Hikaru-san we're ready." She ran up the stairs, her multilayered pink skirt flouncing about her.

In a few minutes Kaori came down with Hikaru in tow. "Ready, Kousei?" she asked, putting on a pair of dark sunglasses. Kousei noted she also wore short leather gloves.

Johann and another man emerged from the kitchen. They wore nondescript citywear—dark sport jackets and slacks plus sunglasses. The other man was smaller than his bulky counterpart, sinewy and brown-skinned. It seemed he liked to smile; Kousei only knew him by the name 'Ernesto.'

"Yes."

"That's quite the pile you have there," Hikaru commented. "We'll take the minivan. Help us load your stuff into the back."

"I'm sorry we're imposing on you like this," Kaori said.

"Ah, it's no problem."

"That's our boss," Ernesto chuckled. "Runs a daycare in the morning and shoots bad guys at night."

"Shaddup," Johann said, giving him a rough tap on the shoulder. "Loose lips."

"Hey, in case you've forgotten, the little lady over here's our client." Hikaru said. "Treat her with respect, Ernie."

"So sorry, little miss," the man apologized, scratching the back of his head and smiling disarmingly. "Didn't mean anything by what I said."

"It's okay," Kaori said, smiling back.

Without further banter they loaded her things into the back of the boxy grayish-black Honda minivan. The two teenagers piled into the back along with Ernesto, while Hikaru rode shotgun. The front gate opened electrically, guarded by another of Hikaru's crew, and the loaded vehicle eased out of the driveway into the street.

"Seems clear," said Johann.

"Keep on the expressway until we reach the Shibuya exit," Hikaru directed. "By the way, the weatherman predicted the possibility of fog hereabouts."

When they pulled off the expressway and had begun threading the streets that would eventually lead them to the interior of Nerima Ward, Hikaru _tsk_ ed and turned to the driver.

"I think we're snakebit."

Johann looked up at the wide rearview mirror. "I don't see anything."

"The black Corolla to your left, two cars back," Ernesto said. "Don't look at it!" he warned Kousei and Kaori, who had begun to do just that. "It's been with us since the rotunda near the house."

"Ah."

"Get down, you two," Hikaru said calmly. "We may be mistaken. It may be nothing."

Hearts racing, the two teenagers bent down as far as they could. Ernesto released the catch on the seat back, letting it fold forward, to give them more room.

"You all right?" Kousei whispered. He was lying on his stomach, as flat as possible on the cargo floor, arm thrown protectively across Kaori's back, while she lay beside him.

"I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about. Just listen to what Hikaru-san says."

"I-I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me." Kousei's pounding heart belied that bravado, but she didn't need to know about it just now . . . .

Minutes seemed to crawl by just as slowly as the traffic. The sedan never lost sight of them, a threatening metal presence not actually doing anything save unraveling their peace of mind with its presence. Their nerves were already quite strained when something beeped in Hikaru's glove compartment. She opened it and pulled out what looked like a bulky first-generation mobile phone handset.

"Yes?" she said none too gently. "Who is this?" Her eyes went wide. "M-Major Pavlovna? Why—"

A loud buzzing sound came from the handset. Hikaru winced and held the device away from her ear. "Y-yes. To what do I owe the pleasure . . . yes." She looked over her shoulder. "But I thought—no, that was handled by someone else . . . the rat. I see. Well, thanks for telling me. But I'm stuck in a minivan with my cargo and I only have two men with me. You're sending someone to help? I don't mind, but let's not turn the entire city into a war zone. I do have to live here, you know. Yes. I'm quite near. Thank you. It'll be my pleasure." Letting a feral grin escape her lips, Hikaru put the phone back into the glove compartment.

"Ernie? What do you see?"

"At least three in the car," Ernesto reported quietly as he struggled to make out details in the smoky mist. "Can't tell what they're armed with."

"Johann, head for Shinjuku Gyoen. The Ookido gate." To Kousei's surprise Hikaru brought out a wicked black automatic from under her jacket. "If we're going to have to shoot it out, let's do it in a place without so many people."

"Come on, Hikaru," Johann prompted. "Don't keep us in suspense."

"That was Hotel Moscow. Apparently someone's being stubborn and doesn't want to give our Kaori up without a fight."

"Who?"

"You're not going to believe this—Extra Order."

"Miserable creeps," Johann muttered, looking like he'd stepped on something disgusting. Ernesto spat an expletive at the same time.

"Anyway, the Major thought it'd be fun to cause them some trouble by letting us know. She's sent some people. They're waiting at the park. Oh, there's probably another car out there with more Extra Order goons. The haze we're experiencing might keep many of them from engaging us at long range, but we're quite outnumbered. We'd best link up with our help as soon as possible. What're they doing?"

"It don't seem like—ah, yup, someone's just pulled out a silencer," reported Ernesto. "Window's going down."

Something hit the side of the van.

"They're shooting!" Johann growled.

"Get away from them!"

The van swerved and roared down the avenue, missing pedestrians by millimeters and eliciting a cascade of blowing horns and angry shouts. Additional thuds told them that bullets were impacting their vehicle.

"This is why I don't ever want to ride with you, Hans," Ernesto yelled as Johann steered them through both vehicles, near-misses causing everyone on board incipient bouts of heart failure. All three had drawn their weapons. Hikaru and Johann were armed with suppressed handguns, the former black and the latter silver. Ernesto unslung a boxy-looking, fat-snouted weapon that had hung hidden under his jacket.

"You can get out and walk then!" Johann shouted, twisting the steering wheel and snaking in between a light truck and a taxi with heart-dropping alacrity.

"Knock it off, you two! When we turn, Ernie, I want you to try and kill the car. Copy?"

"Copy."

"Kids, stay down no matter what?"

"Y-you bet," came Kousei's shaky reply. _Seriously, this can't be happening,_ he thought frantically.

The van turned onto the street that led to both the Shinjuku and Ookido gates. Ernesto already had the windowpane in motion and thrust his weapon out. A series of sharp cracks pierced the air as he fired into the pursuing car's engine block. Spent casings tinkled around Kousei.

"Captain, I think I got them. The car's slowing down."

"Good. Run for the parking lot, Johann. We'll get off there."

"What about our other job?"

Hikaru rolled her eyes. "Let's survive this one first, okay?"

As they were hurtling past the sidewalk, they passed two men in dressed in dark green-gray clothes. One man carried an assault rifle. The other unlimbered a long tube with a bump on one end. He pointed it at the fleeing vehicle and peered intoa short metal tube mounted on the top of the tube.

"RPG!" Hikaru shouted. "RPG!"

The Extra Order merc aimed and fired. There was a _whoosh_ as a projectile sped out of the tube, and the earsplitting sound of tearing paper as its rocket motor ignited. In seconds the world became a deafening, shattering mess. Kousei was aware of something beating on the side of the van, like a giant demanding entrance, crumpling the metal like tissue paper. Then something struck him on the head, and darkness descended upon everything.

\- - - oOo - - -

He became dimly aware of being dragged by his collar and set on a cold floor. He groaned and opened his eyes.

"Kousei!" cried a pale-haired girl bending over him, wiping the tears from her face and sniffling. "Kousei!"

"Kaori? I had the weirdest dream."

Something spanged against the window frame above Kousei's head, and his eyes grew large.

"Awake, Arima?" Hikaru, kneeling by the teller's window, popped up and fired her pistol. "Can you move? Good. Out the back door. Make for the Taiwan Pavilion."

"Can't we just stay here?" Kousei asked as he rolled into a sitting position. Every muscle on his body seemed to ache, but no bones seemed to be broken. His ears rang.

"No, if someone rockets or grenades this place we'll all die. I'll hold them off as long as I can. Our helpers should reach you before you get to the Pavilion. Johann will be with you."

"Ernesto?"

Hikaru shook her head. She stripped off her outermost garment. "Here, Kaori. Wear my jacket. It'll help protect you."

"No, you keep it. You'll need it—"

"What did I say before about crossing me?" Hikaru said sharply, her voice rising as she risked a quick, angry look at her charge. "Anyway, it won't help me. It only stops pistol rounds."

Kaori donned the jacket and gave Hikaru a quick squeeze on the forearm. "See you later."

"Gotcha. Go now, Johann's waiting."

The German giant, his pomaded hair messed up, his face cut and scratched, motioned for them to follow him. They stepped out the back door of the entrance facility. Kousei held his hand out to Kaori. She gripped it and wondered why it felt slick. Looking down, she was horrified to find her hand wet with blood.

\- - - oOo - - -

"Kousei!" she said as they ran down the main path that served as one of the park's main thoroughfares. The haze that had been building before was somewhat substantial now—they could barely see the buildings beyond the park from where they were. "Are you hurt anywhere?" People were running away from the sound of the shots—and when they saw Johann's gun, from them.

"I don't think so," he replied. "At least not seriously."

"Then this blood . . . ." Kaori looked back in the direction of the entrance, which they could no longer see, hidden by the lie of the land, the foliage, and the gathering fog. A quick _pop-pop-pop_ followed by a fusillade from more than one weapon squeezed her heart. She wanted so terribly to run back to Hikaru, make sure she was okay.

Johann waved at them. "Listen. We don't know if there's anyone ahead of us, so we'll get off the main walkway."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" asked Kousei.

Johann nodded. "Keep quiet, keep looking around, and pray we get out of this alive."

\- - - oOo - - -

At any other time the beauty of the scenery would've enticed any one of them into sightseeing. Now the greenery was nothing more than a verdant and disappointingly un-bulletproof backdrop concealing enemies from a small group of running and sneaking individuals. The silence of their surroundings was eerie—they heard the occasional car, a siren or two, and sometimes gunfire—but other than the gathering mist, everything seemed to be normal.

Kousei had a moment to feel regret at stepping on a pinkish carpet of moss phlox, planted as part of an upcoming exhibit. Seeing the expression on his face, Kaori quipped, "This is one time when you should 'Step on the grass'!"

"Very funny. Am I imagining it, or are you enjoying yourself right now?"

"It's like . . . well, it's like playing chess—I like it when you outsmart someone. Especially someone with a gun. But we always got away without getting into trouble before," she added, mumbling.

Around fifteen minutes later they arrived at a point from which they could see the pavilion on their left. Pausing at an _azumaya_ shelter to catch their breath, they prepared for one last push to safety.

"Where are those people Hikaru said would be helping us?" asked Kousei, breathing hard as they knelt down behind the bench seats in the gazebo-like structure and observed the pavilion.

"I don't know," Johann answered, tight-lipped. "Maybe they're under cover as well."

Kousei pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Think it's safe to go there?"

Something thwacked into the benches of the _azumaya,_ sending splinters of wood flying everywhere. Clumps of dirt and grass fountained around them. Everyone huddled around the concrete pillar in the middle of the structure.

"Does that answer your question?" Johann asked, glaring balefully at him. Turning, he brought his silver pistol up and fired behind them. A strangled cry reached their ears.

Behind him, a man rose up from his hiding place behind a dome-shaped topiary. He had a gun pointed at Johann. Kaori yelled a warning.

Johann pivoted, his pistol describing a fluid semicircle as he brought his weapon to bear. Both he and the man shot at the same time.

The huge man banged against the pebbled surface of the pillar, his arm falling to his side and his gun landing on the ground. He turned towards them, grimacing.

"Run!" he gasped.

There was nowhere to go. Only a single scrawny tree was nearby, its twigs masquerading as branches and trunk. The topiaries would hide them, but they wouldn't stop a bullet, and neither would the open-work bridges. Kousei grasped Kaori's hand as they froze where they were.

The sound of two unsilenced gunshots rang out, and the man who had shot Johann threw his hands up, casting his pistol into the air. His mouth was an O of surprise as he fell to the ground. Someone came into view through the mist, crouching, carrying two handguns, each a burnished silver in color, pointing them at the fallen mercenary as they quickly crab-walked to where the two terrified teenagers where.

It was a woman in her twenties, with long dark hair done up in a ponytail. She wore a black cutoff top, denim shorts, and combat boots. A fatigue-colored pistol belt kept her shorts in place. She was also kitted out with a shoulder holster. A long arm of some sort was slung across her back.

Her sloe eyes, came to rest upon the figure of Johann, still slumped against the pillar. "Shit," she said, "I was supposed to be on vacation, Johannes. What have you and your pansy-ass friends gotten into this time?" She smiled fiercely down at him.

Johann returned her smile. "Hey, Two Hands."

The woman gave him a once-over and unclipped a walkie-talkie on her belt. "Benny?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm in a gazebo near the water, Taiwan Pavilion, right side. Bring a first-aid kit."

"I'm a bit busy at the gate. Rock's near you, he'll bring it."

"Alright, but hurry up." She returned the radio to her belt. "We're lucky this fog's pretty thick. I need to leave. When you see a Japanese guy with short hair and dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, call his attention. Tell him to patch this guy up—" she indicated Johann "—and then go to the pavilion. We've unlocked the off-limits rooms. Go in there and wait for a tall, bald black guy with shades and a beard. That's Dutch. He'll tell you what to do next. Got it?"

Kousei and Kaori answered in the affirmative. Kaori scuttled over to Johann's side. "Excuse me . . ." she ventured timidly.

"What?"

"Did you see a woman with really short strawberry blond hair around the Ookido entrance? She had a pistol."

"Can't say that I have. Someone you know?"

Kaori nodded.

"Stay here with him. I've got some more fish to fry." The woman went back down the path and became a vague shape in the mist.

\- - - oOo - - -

The man with the Hawaiian shirt found them and bandaged Johann up. Then they all moved to the one-story Kyugoryotei, which had been a gift in 1927 from Japanese living in Taiwan to commemorate the wedding of then-Crown Prince Hirohito. There they stopped in the first room to the left of the entrance. The bodies of a park staffer and a policeman lay on the floor in the middle of the observation deck.

"I wonder where the police are," Kousei said.

"A Metro Police Special Assault unit had arrived at the Ookido gate when I passed by," answered the Japanese man. "I don't really relish getting caught by them." He looked at Kousei. "Are you the people Captain Hiyama was transporting?"

Kousei was about to answer when Kaori interrupted, saying "I am. He—" she indicated Kousei "—was a bystander, Mister . . . ."

The man regarded them. "Rokuro Okajima. You can call me Rock. Everyone else does."

"Rock-san—"

"Just Rock."

"Okay."

"What do they want with you, kid?"

"I-It's sort of secret."

"Of course it is." One could hear the sarcasm dripping from Rock's voice. "It's always secret, like selling nuclear technology."

"It isn't her fault!" Kousei interjected. "There was supposed to be an agreement—"

Rock listened to Kousei explain. He shrugged. "What's done is done. Let's just get you out of here." He sat down heavily beside the two teenagers.

\- - - oOo - - -

The minutes seemed to crawl by. The fog grew thicker, leaving the world outside a sinister gray. Finally Dutch, a tall, muscular black man in long-sleeved shirt and cargo pants, arrived, followed closely by the woman gunfighter.

"I think we got all of them," Dutch announced in gravelly bass voice. "Any problems, Revy?"

She shook her head. "Let's get out of here, Dutch, or Balalaika might pull the plug on our invitation to the Russian Embassy."

"Some goddamn invitation. Come on, let's go where Benny-boy's waiting. You in the middle." Dutch waved his revolver at Kaori.

"Did you see Captain Hiyama?" Kaori asked as they began to move out of the Pavilion.

"The police have her, kid," Dutch answered. "She's in pretty bad shape."

Kaori looked worried, chewing her lip but otherwise staying quiet. Kousei reached over and squeezed her hand. She gave a slight smile, but her eye continued reflecting the turmoil within, like sunlight off a turbulent stream.

\- - - oOo - - -

They made their way to the northwestern border of the park, twice having to stop and deal with some Extra Order goons. After the woman called Revy had dispatched one with a rifle shot to the heart, Kousei wondered where they were going, as the exit was nowhere near their route. In the mist he heard a sudden crash and thunderclap.

"He's here," said Dutch. "Hurry, hurry!"

When they got near, they saw that someone had driven a full-size van through the outer and inner fences of the Park. A blond man with glasses and another garish Hawaiian shirt waited for them behind the driver's seat.

Rock cursed. "Now I know why none of you wanted to sign for the rental."

"Yo, Benny-boy," Dutch called as they came closer. He waved. "It's us, don't shoot."

"Hurry, Dutch" Benny called. "A cruiser just passed by a while ago."

"Okay. Everyone aboard. Revy, put your guns away. We're just lost _gaijin_ sightseers if anyone asks."

" _Armed_ sightseers," Benny sardonically amended.

Revy got into the front passenger seat, her eyes smoldering with anger. Kousei felt a tug on his sleeve.

"Should we make a run for it?" Kaori whispered.

"I'd like to, but they'd probably just shoot us."

"What if they're just roleplaying to get our trust?" Kaori squeezed Kousei's shoulder painfully hard. "What if _they_ want to kidnap us too?"

"Hold it!" came the shout from inside the fence.

The figure of a man appeared in the fog, pointing an assault rifle at them.

Without hesitation Kaori turned and threw Kousei backwards.

As he tumbled back, Kousei watched events unfold as if everything had suddenly slowed down. Kaori's mouth formed an O as she said his name and her violin, strapped to her back, poked upward like some kind of weird antenna as her arm flung him away; Hikaru's large jacket spread out like a capelet away from her rotating body. Beyond her he saw the bright flashes and heard the _crack crack crack_ of the rifle.

Kaori's good eye widened, and she stumbled and fell in front of Kousei.

"No!"

Dutch and Revy instantly fired back, and the gunman fell back out of sight. There was a splash as he hit the water, but Kousei hardly heard it; his attention was somewhere else.

"Ow! Owowow!" Kaori lay on the ground, grimacing and clutching her calf.

"Kaori!" Kousei stammered as he divested her of her instrument case so she could lean against him instead of lying of the ground. "Are you hurt? Were you hit?"

"Noo-oh! Cramp! It'll pass." Her face was a study in frustration as she fought her calf.

Kousei, relieved, hugged her to him. "This is the first time I'm glad you suffer from cramps!" he laughed. He reached down and gently kneaded her calf, feeling the muscle spasm under his touch like a wild animal seeking escape.

Kaori had enough humor left in her to chuckle. "Sorry," she said as she rested in the cradle of Kousei's arms.

"C'mon, c'mon, time to leave!" Dutch motioned for Rock to help carry Kaori, but the bespectacled pianist, with main strength, lifted her and brought her all the way into the van on his own.

As the man called Benny gunned the engine and drove off into the fog, Kaori happened to look back into the cargo compartment.

"My violin!" she wailed. "Kousei, can you get it for me?"

Kousei reached back and retrieved the salmon-colored case, which bore a telling hole through its center, ragged at the edges and about half an inch in diameter. Kaori singlehandedly popped the metal latches and opened it. Her face, already written over with trepidation, fell.

\- - - oOo - - -

A week later, someone knocked on the door of a private hospital suite.

"Excuse me."

"Well, if it isn't Kousei Arima. Come in, come in." Reading glasses were placed on the bedside table, a magazine was put away.

Kousei bowed. "How are you, Hikaru-sensei?"

"As fine as can be. Just a favor."

"Name it."

"Don't make me laugh, okay? It hurts to laugh."

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to talk about depressing things?"

Hikaru chortled. "Kousei . . . ."

"What? I wasn't trying to be funny."

"It must be your face. The cops still questioning you?"

"Not since the last meeting."

"I suppose that's a good sign." Hikaru gestured. "Come on in and sit down. What are you standing there for?"

Kousei moved from where he had been awkwardly standing near the door and sat down in a chair.

After the incident in Shinjuku Gyoen, the Lagoon Company had made a beeline for the Russian embassy, where Sofiya Pavlovna, former Soviet army captain, Afghan War veteran, and present head of Hotel Moscow quickly provided an escape route consisting of diplomatic passports, some local arm twisting, calling in of favors, and a discreetly armed convoy, which brought them to Haneda, where they took advantage of a lapse in security in the private side of the airport to board a business jet and flee to an undisclosed location. Kousei and Kaori last saw them at the embassy, prior to being picked up themselves for questioning by the police.

There were those who didn't merit a single word in the media, and thus whose bravery went unnoticed. Ernesto had nearly died from loss of blood from multiple gunshot wounds. Johann was okay; he had just been winged, and would regain most of the motion in his arm. Hikaru had been hit in the flank and a bullet had broken her left arm.

She gingerly moved in her hospital bed. "You're probably disappointed that Kaori has to stay back in my house for the time being."

"As long as she's safe, I don't mind. Besides, I don't think it's a thing for me to pass any kind of judgement on." Kousei sighed. "I guess it's only now that I've realized what she meant about living a dangerous life before."

"You can help her forget about it," Hikaru suggested. "What reason did her parents give the press, about why Extra Order tried to kidnap her?"

"It never came up in the press conference." Shrugging, Kousei looked uneasy. "People sort of assumed they were simply out to hurt people and destroy property."

"In a park?" Hikaru raised an eyebrow. "Why not in a crowded place like a scramble crossing or a train station? Oh, well. I won't dissuade them from thinking like that. But speak thou," she said, looking at Kousei. "Methinks you have something to say."

"Well . . . they didn't show our faces on TV, they didn't release our names, but I'm sure my friends are going to find out anyway and I'm not sure how I'm going to handle it when they ask me what's going on."

"We both want Kaori to be safe. I don't know your friends, so it falls to you to use your judgement. Just remember what we talked about before."

Kousei nodded. "She was terribly depressed when her violin was destroyed."

"I know. I've put a word in with my friend Madoka. Maybe she can do something about that."

"I'm grateful for that. Also, there's something I wanted to show you. I took it from your room—I hope you don't mind, Johann just sort of cleaned it and left it on your bed."

"You were in my room?" Hikaru's eyes narrowed.

"Just to get this, I swear!" Kousei brought out a thick leather jacket from the bag he carried.

"Hey, isn't that my jacket?"

"It is. And I want you to look closely at it." He handed it to her.

Hikaru twirled it around. "I don't see anything wrong."

Kousei stood up and took it from her. Grasping the garment by the shoulders, he opened it wide. It was then that Hikaru saw the light shining through the small hole in the chest.

* * *

 _Fourth version. *sigh*. Changed the end of the chapter.  
_


	11. A Stormy Summer VI: Well Met

**Stormy Summer VI: Well Met**

 _From the moment that we meet someone else, none of us can ever be alone._

 _-Kousei Arima_

* * *

"I'm really sorry I got you got involved," Kaori apologized as they walked to the train station.

Kousei frowned. "There you go again. It's not your doing," he said. "If there's one bright spot in this affair, it's that you're okay. You know, now that I think about it, I must've looked like a perfect fool, falling like that."

Kaori shook her head. "I know what you're going to say—you felt so terrified you thought you'd been hit when you heard the gunshots."

"Ah, well, that's just about it." Kousei let out an agonized laugh. "It's just about the funniest mistake that's ever happened to me."

"Since we just came from Hikaru-san, I'm not finding it amusing at all. You ninny! What would I have done if you'd really been shot?" Kaori grabbed Kousei's forearm and held tight.

"Is it really true you spent three years running around like that?"

"Not in the beginning; I was more like carried around, because I was unable to walk very far. Once Hikaru-san even had to hide me in plain sight in a mortuary." Kaori shuddered. "I hope I never have to do that again."

The Seibu-Ikebukuro train was filled to capacity, and Kaori had to wear a face mask as they endured the sardine-like crush of people trying to get home. It was so filled that at the Okujii Park station the passengers in the succeeding car did a _shougi daoshi_ (a mishap named after the Japanese chess game, where everyone falls on the people in front of them, like a bunch of dominoes), resulting in this case in a tidal wave of humanity crashing _en masse_ onto the floor.

They looked out the windows. Station staff and other people rushed to help the fallen. "I hope no one was hurt," Kousei remarked. "So I guess I'll tell Emily the contest is off later."

Kaori sighed. "Yeah."

Kousei thought about it as the advertisements on the concrete wall flashed by, too blurry to read. "I suppose I'll ask around where we can borrow or rent one."

"Okay." Kaori stood with her back against the wall of the compartment, separated from the crush by Kousei, who stood facing her. "Thanks for helping me."

"No problem."

Kaori smiled. In the squashed confines of the train, she stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, surprising Kousei.

 _If she had the . . . audacity to do that, I should too,_ he thought, and was preparing to reply in kind when the Series 3000 train's PA system interrupted him.

"Now approaching Ooizumigakuen Station. Oozumigakuen Station. Ooizumigakuen Station."

They got off at their stop. Kousei thought fleetingly about kissing Kaori, but his momentary courage had already deserted him. As much as the nearness of her enticed him, no matter how nice her perfume smelled and urged him to get closer so he might smell it better, no matter how soft and shiny her lips looked, he had no desire to embarrass her or subject her to censure. He just smiled his goofy smile and passed the short time away by telling Kaori a joke about his classmates in Okutsu. When they arrived at their station and started walking up busy Gakuen-dori, colored by the setting sun in flaming reds and oranges, Kaori frowned at him.

"You're not seriously going to walk with me all the way home, are you?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You don't have to do that."

"Says the girl who was almost kidnapped a week ago."

"I'll be all right."

"No," Kousei stubbornly replied. "Even if you tell me to go away, I'll just end up shadowing you."

Kaori sighed. "Fine. Suit yourself," she said, turning away, her annoyed expression softening. "You're something, you know that, _bansousha_ -san? You went through the same terrible thing, and you worry about _me._ If I were you I'd have been a nervous wreck."

Kousei let out a noisy sigh and a forlorn chuckle. "We were a bit too busy to be scared much. And unfortunately I feel too much for some things—no, some people—in this world."

Kaori nudged him. "Oh, you're too corny, you know that?" she complained, blinking furiously.

\- - - oOo - - -

"So here we are," Kaori said as they trudged up the slight rise leading to _Ma Fille_. "Thanks."

"Er, we're still a block away."

"I know." Kaori looked around, giggled, then pulled Kousei down a recess in the hedge by the side of the road. A minute later they emerged from their hidey-hole and continued up the road, not speaking to each other. The violinist walked so fast Kousei had a tough time keeping up with her.

"Hey," he murmured, "slow down, Kaori. I don't think you'd want to arrive home looking like that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your cheeks. They're as pink as peaches."

Kaori clapped her hands to her cheeks. "Whoops! It's your fault." She looked at Kousei slyly. "But it looks like I'm not the only one who got excited."

Kousei raised an eyebrow.

"From the neck down, you're red. As in really, really red."

Kousei hurriedly refastened the buttons on his school uniform, an off-white polo shirt with a badge over a breast pocket. He rummaged around in his carryall. "Tie, tie, where's my tie? Ahh." He put on his neckwear. "How do I look?"

Kaori reached over and did some minor adjustments. "There. Perfect."

"Let's walk a little slower, please. Give me some time to catch my breath."

"I suppose."

Kousei let out a laugh. "We must look guilty as heck."

"Don't think that, or it'll show up on your face," Kaori said.

"Yeah, and I'm afraid what your dad might do if he finds out what we've just done," agreed Kousei.

"He'll kill you, of course. Then my mom will use your bones for soup. Arima-soup, with lots of chives and beef stock. Serve decorated with a pair of glasses on the side of the bowl."

"Ugh." Kousei shivered. "You can be pretty morbid, you know that."

"I know. But am I not sweet at times?"

"When you're not pinching, kicking, or hitting me."

Kaori frowned. "But you provoke me," she said petulantly. "Besides, I like pinching you—oh, all right, I'll try to stop."

The resumed their walk. "Hey, did you ever consider wearing contacts?"

"Nope. I'm sure I'd forget to remove them before going to bed. Now what do you think you're doing?"

Kaori had reached out and gently lifted Kousei's glasses off his face. "Nothing much. I'd almost forgotten how you look without your specs. Pretty handsome there."

"If you say so."

"Hmph. Such _overwhelming_ enthusiasm." She suddenly turned around and scampered away.

"Hey! Give me back my glasses!"

"Come walk to me, and I'll give them back."

"Look, I'm not that blind without them." Kousei strode up to Kaori and held his hand out. She plopped the square-framed eyewear into his hands.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"I do." Kaori's eye twinkled. "Well, come on."

They reached the front of _Ma Fille_.

Kaori said, "I hope you're going to stay for dinner."

"I'd like to, but it's my turn to cook at home."

"Oh." She leaned towards Kousei and whispered in his ear. "Then I guess I'll have to survive on those kisses earlier."

Kousei blushed. "Yeah. I guess I should leave before your parents—"

The front door banged open. "Kaori! Arima-kun!"

It was a long hour before Kousei left.

\- - - oOo - - -

"Thank you for having me." Kousei bowed deeply to Kaori's parents at the front door of the patisserie.

"Sorry we kept you," said Ryouko Miyazono, smiling. "You take care going home, okay?"

As Kousei walked away and Mrs. Miyazono closed the door, he was thinking of the day he had just experienced. His heart still trilled at remembering how Kaori had dragged him into the recess and kissed him. The softness, the smells . . . a whole welter of sensations and emotions, all of them pleasant.

"You look like the cat who got the cream."

Kousei jerked his head up.

"Surprised to see me?"

"I-I-I-"

"Why so nervous, Kousei? Do you want to go home together?"

With a deep sigh, Kousei laid eyes on the person, guilt and sadness mingled in his gaze. "Can it, Tsubaki. Let's talk, if you want to. I promise . . . I'll be honest."


	12. Anxious Autumn: Falling Leaves

**Anxious Autumn: Falling Leaves**

Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso © Naoshi Arakawa, A-1 Pictures, and other rights holders.

* * *

 _To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence._

 _\- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_

\- - - oOo - - -

"I saw you walking with a girl," Tsubaki said, gesturing in the direction of Gakuen-dori. "You two seemed reeeaally familiar with each other. I mean, I wouldn't have the guts to drag you into a hidey-hole to make out."

"What?" Kousei fought hard to keep the surprise from his face. It didn't prevent him blushing, though.

Tsubaki got that smug look of one who thought she got the drop on another person. "Huh? You said you were going to tell me the truth. Is she your classmate?"

"She used to be." Kousei stared at her.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

A surge of people coming out of the station forced them to step aside. "Do you really want to talk about this here?"

"Let's go somewhere more private then."

They settled for a nearby food joint, where they got bowls of soba and took seats in a relatively private corner. The place was full of people, but it stayed pretty quiet—they could hear the classical music played over the speakers suspended on the walls.

Kousei's nervousness made him speak. "Why aren't you furious? I thought you'd be spitting mad, catching me with another girl."

"Well . . . part of me does want to kick you in the shins right now. The other part is telling me I'd be a fool to do so, since we never agreed to stop seeing other people." She grabbed Kousei's hand. "I guess that was my fault. But why did you never tell me you were seeing someone else?"

"Tsu-chan . . . it's kind of difficult to explain." Kousei quietly looked up the length of the street, with its pedestrians, its cars, its white streetlamps. "Look, I'm not trying to hurt you or anything, but maybe . . . maybe you should meet her."

Tsubaki twirled the noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks. "And I thought Kaori's memory was the only serious competition I had. Why do you want me to meet her?"

"You make it sound like I'm as bad as Watari when it comes to girls."

"Come on, Kousei. Why?"

Kousei carefully considered his next words. "There is definitely something you must see. When you do, you'll realize why I couldn't just tell you about it . . . about her." The sliced egg he had been trying to pick up disintegrated and fell back into the broth.

"Do you love her very much?" A change in music punctuated Tsubaki's question.

Kousei's ears perked up. He wasn't sure if she knew, though she surely had heard it before—Kreisler's "Love's Sorrow". It just about crushed him to hear it now, of all times.

"Yeah. I . . . I didn't know how to tell you that, so . . . ."

"Then I'll meet her. But only for a short time." Tsubaki noiselessly vacuumed the noodles into her mouth. "Come on, eat your food and take me home."

"Tsubaki . . . ."

"Let's not talk about it any more tonight. But you know something?"

"What?"

"I . . . I'm not sure I can give you up just like that," came Tsubaki's soft reply.

What could one say to such words? Kousei never hated himself as much as he did at that moment. On the train ride and the walk home they were beside each other, but they might as well have been on opposite ends of a gap—a gap as wide as the world. In the morning, before going to school, Tsubaki tried to see him.

"I'm sorry, Tsubaki, but he left very early this morning. He said was going back to his dorm," answered a fully-dressed but sleepy-looking Takahiko Arima. "Did you need him for something?"

"Oh, no, no. I was just going to wish him good luck," fibbed Tsubaki. "Sorry to disturb you."

"That's okay. Want some tea or something?"

"No thank you. I just finished. I'll let myself out."

Tsubaki walked out and closed the latch. She stood looking forlornly at the window of Kousei's room before heading down the quiet street.

\- - - oOo - - -

Three days later, after a stint at the Shibuya live bar where he sometimes hung out, Kousei headed for Hikaru's house. Kaori was there, hooked up to a drip bottle and flowmeter and a rack-mounted suite of biomedical apparatus standing by her bed. She was effusive in her greetings, but Kousei remained quiet, for he felt troubled; he had wanted to confront her about the jacket, but seeing her lying wan and pale on the bed stopped him. Now was not the time, he told himself, yet his unuttered fears were eating at him.

"I hope you don't mind waiting a bit," she said apologetically as she sat up in her bed. "It's almost done, just a couple of more minutes."

"That's fine, Kaori. My dad knows I'll be coming home late anyway. How are you feeling?"

The pale-skinned girl nodded. "I'm okay. In fact, I just want this to be over so I can ask you to help me."

"Do what?"

A light twinkled in Kaori's eye. "I was sort of hoping you could help me with _The Lark._ "

Kousei smiled faintly. "Uh-oh. Look, just let me do a pass at it—I haven't touched it lately. Are we using the music room?"

"Yup."

"Sure you're up to it?"

"Yes. Stop worrying."

Thirty minutes later they made their way down to the music room. Kaori was dressed in crocheted jacket, long-sleeved shirt, and black pants; she moved slowly but insisted she was well enough to practice.

"What was that about?" asked Kousei, motioning upstairs.

Kaori cocked her head at him as she tied a kerchief around her head to keep her hair away from her face. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten. The deal with the people who were after me, remember?"

"Oh."

"Earth to Kousei Arima, come in, Arima," she joked, walking over to a rectangular black instrument case lying on top of a dresser. She undid the latches of the thing and opened it, carefully bringing out a golden brown violin.

"You have a new violin?" Kousei asked.

"Borrowed, thanks to Hikaru-san's friend." Kaori gave the scrollwork an affectionate pat. "He and I have been getting along quite well."

"He?"

Kaori laughed. "I don't know why, but something makes me think it's a guy." From the case Kaori brought out a bow. "I need a couple of minutes to tune it."

Kousei nodded and sat down at the keyboard, digging around in his shoulder bag and bringing out the sheet music for the William Auer version of _The Lark_. He smoothed it over his knee before putting it on the backboard.

"Kaori?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Hikaru-san?"

"She left this morning for Hokkaido and won't be back until the weekend. Give me an A, would you?"

Kousei switched voices on the keyboard and played a bass A.

"Haha. That's so funny, Kousei."

In response, Kousei smiled and played a shrill upper note.

"Quit fooling around . . . ." Kaori stood up threateningly.

Quickly Kousei played the appropriate tone. "Lighten up. You're so serious about this."

Kaori mumbled something, but the sound of her tuning the strings covered her voice.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I said," the flaxed-haired girl said, her voice rising, "that's because there's no way I'm going to allow you to become Miss Beanpole's prize!"

For a long second they stared at each other, with Kousei's face doing a passable impression of a tomato. Or someone who had had a sudden case of sunburn.

"You're so dense you make me say the stupidest things!" snapped Kaori, her own cheeks aflame with color. "Don't you dare gloat over what I just said."

"I wasn't . . . I wasn't going to."

Kaori finished setting her violin up and played the beginning of Mendelssohn's _Violin Concerto in E Minor,_ quickly halting and adjusting her instrument when a string or two sounded out of tune—and Kousei could hear it, what with his perfect pitch. When she was finished, she nodded curtly at her accompanist.

Opening with a tentative measure, Kousei was slightly taken aback by Kaori's opening, which to his mind was a bit too harsh. Kaori herself must have noticed, because she immediately stopped and said "Again."

The repeat sounded better. It was played in that characteristic stop-go-stop fashion that people practicing have: sometimes they would have a short discussion on how a part should sound. And since Kousei was now in his element, his reticent self disappeared, and he shared his opinions on Kaori's playing, leading to an argument or two. Kaori looked visibly hurt at the end of the last one, where Kousei said "Look, just because it's a popular thing to do doesn't mean it should be done. Everything you need is on the notation. I'm not a string player, but for example, I've read that a certain legendary cellist played a passage in a concerto a particular way, and now practically every cello player also plays it the way she played it, because of her." He shrugged. "That doesn't really sit well with me, sometimes."

"Well, I think it's okay," Kaori fired back, "and lots of well-known musicians don't stick to the sheet music like a train on rails. And people like their music just fine."

"I never said it wasn't okay. I said I'm uncomfortable with it. I think that for classical music, there's a lot of room for expressing your own feelings within the piece itself. Think how Kissin sounds different from Bradley."

"Well, we'll just have to disagree on that point." Kaori pursed her lips. "I play the way I want to play, you play the way you want to play. Hmph." She pondered. "Maybe it's because we're both soloists."

"Maybe."

Kaori shouldered her violin. "But I think I ought to remind you you're accompanying me for this piece. Let's proceed." Looking down the fingerboard, she thought to herself, _And in this, your mother lives on._ She resumed playing from where they left off.

They finished the _lied_ and remained where they were for a long moment, frozen statues in a silent tableau, each not wanting to break the spell of the music.

"It was you." Kousei's words fell into the silence.

"Me?"

"You taught me to look beyond the score, beyond the notes." Kousei looked up at her. "But with you gone, I lost a great part of my inspiration. So I fell back to doing what I knew best—technical perfection and pathos. I could play 'happy,' but in it . . . there was always an echo of the time I lost you."

Kaori walked back to the dresser, laid her violin on the case, and walked back to Kousei. He was still seated on the bench; she stood in front of him and gave him a hug.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "If I could've spared you . . . ."

Kousei's right hand went up against the small of Kaori's back and pressed her to him, while his left arm encircled her waist. He could hear the flutter of her heart, beating inside its cage; her scent was warm, earthy and faintly sweet, somehow reminding him of a dewy forest glade with a night sky full of glittering stars. "It's okay. Everyone's got to grow up sometime, right?"

"Yeah." Kaori stroked his hair. "They say work is the best antidote to sorrow. Come on." She strode back to her violin and picked it up, lifted it into place and set bow to string. "Let's continue our journey."

\- - - oOo - - -

For two hours they practiced. When they called a stop to it they were both mentally tired.

Kaori sighed. "You know what I really need? I need to play in front of an audience."

"Hmm." Kousei looked up from the keyboard. "It just so happens that there's going to be a sort-of student recital next week at my school. I might be able to sneak you in."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course."

Kaori seemed to light up with glee. Clasping her hands together, she exclaimed "Thank you!" and went over to give him a peck on the cheek. "Ooh, I wonder if Mom and Dad can come and watch."

"There isn't an assigned audience, so as long as there are seats . . . ."

"Do you have classes tomorrow?"

"Well, no, but I have to go back to my dorm."

"How do I get to your school?"

"What? Why?"

"I just want to have a look at it."

"Shouldn't you be doing that with your parents?"

"I will. But I need directions."

"It'd be easier to draw you a map. It's two train rides, unless you want to end up in the boondocks."

Kousei moved to a table and with pen and paper from his bag, sketching directions and explaining to Kaori as he did so. As he talked, she saw something in his bag and fished it out.

"Hey, you had our photo printed?"

"Uh-huh."

Kaori looked at their snapshot. In it they were standing in the Arimas' living room. She was grinning and he was smiling, his fingers forming a V-for-Victory sign, while his other arm had boldly encircled Kaori's waist.

"Hey, um, give me one of yours," she said.

"As soon as I get back home. Everything's on a flash drive."

"Borrow your pen."

Kousei handed it over.

She turned the photo over and scribbled on the back. Kousei reached for it, but Kaori snatched the photo away, shaking a finger and saying, "Ah-ah-ah. You don't get to read it until after we have one final go." She stuffed it down her skirt pocket.

Kousei sighed. "Killjoy."

They played through _The Lark_ one last time.

"Your opinion?" queried Kaori after the last note had died away.

"The solos sounded a lot better." To illustrate his point Kousei played a fragment of Chopin's _Etude in C-Sharp Minor_ Op. 10 No. 4, slurring his way through it the first time, then playing each note clearly the second. "Image it."

"Eh?"

"Image it, like a certain violinist told me before." A phantasm of Kaori wearing her white dress, flower hairclip in her hair, momentarily overcame Kousei, staring with unblinking eyes into his soul before dissipating. _Look up,_ came a disembodied voice _. Look at me._

Kousei glanced over at Kaori, who had settled against the dresser on which the instrument case lay, leaning on it as she held her violin by the neck and cradled the bow. Her eyes were closed.

Kousei played a few bars of _The Lark._ "Image?" he prompted.

"A bird flying over an autumn field full of grass."

"Boring."

"The bird is circling the field. It is singing."

"Why is it singing?"

Kaori's eyes popped open. "Because . . . the higher it climbs, the farther its song can carry." Kousei had the impression that she wanted to say something else, but chose rather not to say it. She reached for the instrument case. "I-I think that'll be enough for now. You must be hungry."

"To tell you the truth, practice always makes me hungry." Kousei smiled. "But I already ate before I went here, so you don't need to worry about that."

"Nonsense. You're eating before you go home, even if it's only a snack."

Still a bit fatigued by the practice, the prodigy chose discretion over valor. "Yes, Milady."

"Great. Otherwise I'd have to eat all of the food." She took a cloth from the case and began to wipe the violin down. "Give me a moment, I'll just put this away."

"Got a name for it?"

"A name?"

"Well, you see, all those master-class violins seem to have names. I was just wondering what you called the one you have now."

"Gee, I never thought about it," Kaori remarked, pulling the cloth gently between the strings and fingerboard. Her face brightened. "How about 'Chocolate Lightning'?"

Kousei made a face.

"Monitor Lizard, after the _Molitor_ Stradivarius."

"Kaori . . . ."

"Just kidding." She finished packing the violin and closed the case, snapping its fasteners shut. "How about 'The Canele'?"

Kousei's face turned serious so fast Kaori wondered for a second if she had committed a serious gaffe. "No way. Can't be."

"Why?"

"You'd eat it."

The blond girl laughed. "In a heartbeat. You know, I feel like eating _you_ up." Kaori stomped over to Kousei. She ruffled his hair with both hands, and brought her head down to bite his shoulder.

"No hickeys!"

"Too late."

Kousei's hands went round her waist. At first Kaori wondered what he was doing, caressing her sides, but when his hands started roaming upward she knew all too well what he intended.

"No . . . Kousei . . . don't—"

As quick as lightning Kousei reached downward, into Kaori's pants pocket, and pulled out the photo before she could stop him. He raised his trophy in triumph.

Kaori straightened up, at once annoyed and relieved. "You piano pervert!" she yelled. "I thought you were going to do something risqué!" To make sure he knew how she felt, she bopped him once on the head.

"Ow!" Kousei grabbed her and forced her to sit down beside him. "Now let's see what you wrote. ' _K. liebt K. I'm so glad we met again._ '" Kousei looked at Kaori, a wide grin splitting his face.

Kaori turned pink. She placed her hands on her knees and looked away from him. "Meanie."

"Hey." Kousei leaned over and kissed the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"What?"

"I love you too. Even if you always hit me and pinch me, even if you fly off the handle at the smallest things. I know a better way of showing how K. loves K."

He took hold of her shoulder and tried to pull her towards him. As she was leaning away from him, it was easy for her to resist, and she didn't budge an inch.

Kousei made a questioning noise, to which the blond teenager replied "Don't wanna."

"Why?"

"You might do something."

"I won't."

"You promise?"

"May I eat a field of spider lilies if I don't."

"Yuck. Please don't say that." Kaori leaned back until her weight was supported by Kousei. He smiled at her. "Doesn't that feel much better?"

"I hate you. You make me feel weak," grumbled Kaori. "And you're only doing this because you're feeling romantic at the moment."

"The last time we did something like this . . . ." Kousei said, "I was more like wishing I could take the fear and pain away from you. I felt so helpless because I couldn't. Just like I couldn't help my Mom." He told her in a monotone how he had said "I wish you were dead" after she had beaten him with her cane after that competition. When he had finished his tale, Kaori twisted over to his side and insinuated herself into the circle of his arms, like a cat snuggling against a favorite person. Kousei looked down at the top of her head.

She began idly picking on the keys of the keyboard, playing a piece by a well-known composer (the one who had written Emily's _Memory_ , in fact) about a girl who flew around and explored her world on a glider-like craft called _Mehve_. Then she began to sing the Requiem, which consisted mainly of a solitary child's voice singing over an eerie synth backing track, but Kousei laid a hand on her forearm and shook his head. She stopped.

"Don't sing things like that," Kousei said quietly. "You might call something that's best left alone."

"Huh?"

"Come off it, Kaori. You know what I mean." Kousei pulled his head back, and Kaori saw that he was smiling at her before his face descended upon hers into a cologne-scented blur. Before their lips met, however, their glasses clicked against each other, and they jerked their heads back, startled.

"No, I _don't_ ," Kaori protested, pushing him away, along making fall off the bench. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing, nothing. I was just joking." Kousei reached for her, but she scooted away from him.

"If you have something to say to me, say it directly."

"Well, who poured boiling water on you? I was just kidding."

Kaori regarded him dubiously as she replaced her violin in its case and snapped the fasteners shut. Kousei saw her image juxtaposing with his mother's as she stood there looking at him.

" _Mais ça, c'est la condition de l'existence_ ," she said haltingly.

Kousei raised an eyebrow. " _Pardon, mademoiselle, je ne parle qu'un peu le français._ "

"It's the very condition of existence," said Kaori. "I'll hurt you; you'll hurt me. We'll hurt each other. But one takes risks. Don't you agree?"

Kousei stood up. "You should know."

\- - - oOo - - -

Later that evening, at dinner, Kousei mentioned his encounter with Tsubaki. They were at the bar in the kitchen, seated on the high stools as they ate a simple meal of celery-garnished _katsudon_.

"Anyway, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing . . . but I want you to meet her."

The violinist balked. "Are y-you sure? Because I—you know. I don't feel really comfortable doing that."

"I think it's the least we can do." He told her how Tsubaki mistook her for some other girl and what she said in the restaurant.

Kaori's frown grew. She laid a hand on Kousei's and squeezed it. "Okay, I'll go. But you have to be there with me. Please?"

Kousei nodded.

\- - - oOo - - -

"Oh, she's so pretty!" exclaimed the girl who leaned over Kousei's shoulder as he looked at the little picure while hurrying in the hallway.

Kousei looked back—up, rather—and smiled at Emily.

"You know, you two seem to be really belong together." Emily held her hand out. "May I see?"

Kousei handed her the photo.

"She looks so happy. That violin of hers—is it old? It looks old."

"I don't know. It's on loan to her—she never told me what it was exactly. She wanted to call it 'The Canele.'"

"That so? If she names it that, I'll call my cello 'Backbreaker.'" Emily's mobile face scrunched up. "I'll bet it's a terribly old thing. The patina, the style of construction—could I ask a favor, Piano Man?"

"What is it?"

"Could I borrow this pic? I'll give it back on Wednesday."

"Why do you need it?"

"Oh, nothing much. There's this guy I'm seeing, and I want to show him what I mean when I say 'happy.' It's sort of a little argument we're having," Emily explained.

"It's not Matsuno, is it?"

"Eh? No. Why would I be interested in an overbearing Boy Scout?"

Kousei flinched. Trust Emily to say what was on her mind. While Matsuno could be obnoxious at times, Kousei didn't think he was _that_ bad. "Huh, I always thought he was your type."

"Well, he's not. Hey, are we still on for that contest?"

"Yeah. Oh, speaking of which, she'll be playing in the recital this weekend."

"What recital?"

"The one here, downstairs, in the auditorium. You weren't listening to Matsuda-sensei, were you?"

"I probably didn't." The tall girl grinned guiltily. "How'd she get invited?"

"Courtesy of me, of course."

Emily brought a hand up and stroked her chin. "Hmm. Interesting. I think I should watch as well."

"Observing the opposition, eh?"

"But of course. Oh, and Kousei, be sure to take a shower just before the contest."

"Why?"

"I don't want a smelly manservant." Emily winked and left him standing there.

\- - - oOo - - -

They met in Okujii Park in the early afternoon, near a trio of picnic tables beside a slow-moving stream. They were alone, save for a few people traversing the nearby wooden bridge and a duck in the water nearby, periodically bobbing its head; every now and then the wind blew through the dark green cherry trees, cooling them.

"I don't know what to do," Kaori confessed, sitting on the edge of a table. "She'll probably kill me. After all, I did steal you from her."

"No, she won't," Kousei returned. "And you're not alone, okay?"

"Thanks. You're my hero."

"Not really." Kousei grimaced. "I know how hard she can hit. Anyway, we can't run from this forever."

"Now I'm even more terrified." Kaori watched the waterfowl, until in a spray of brown feathers and silver droplets it took flight and disappeared above the trees. "I feel like I'm in a movie with the waltz from 'The Godfather' playing."

\- - - oOo - - -

In the end it was a young woman's voice that punctured the little bubble of their anxious silence. Tsubaki waved from the bridge and jogged up to them. Her jog slowed to a walk as she realized exactly who the girl beside Kousei was.

"Kaori-chan?" A hand went to cover her mouth. "I don't believe it."

Kaori stood up and smiled at Tsubaki. It was a slight smile, full of trepidation. "I can hardly believe it myself," she agreed, a question in her eyes.

Tsubaki, turning to face Kousei, stammered "I . . . I have so many questions I don't know where to begin."

"Do you want me to start at the beginning?"

Tsubaki glanced at Kaori, then at Kousei. "I guess you'd better." She sat down on the park bench, and Kousei begin to quietly tell his story.

\- - - oOo - - -

The sun was westering when Kousei and Kaori finished talking.

"Why didn't you tell me about Kao-chan before?" Tsubaki asked, having sat down on the park bench.

Kousei's eye darted from one girl to the other. "At first I was so happy having her back that it kind of eclipsed everything else. Even back then, though, I was wondering what I was going to do about you. After that . . . I sort of let things slide." Kousei looked down. "I'm sorry."

"That's it? 'Gee, Tsubaki, I forgot, sorry?'"

Kousei remained mute.

"It . . . was more like he didn't want to hurt you," Kaori said.

"Let him speak for himself," Tsubaki said curtly. "Kousei, I'm going to ask you some things and you'd better answer them truthfully. Never mind if you think it'll hurt me. Okay?"

Kousei nodded.

"Does Kaori make you happy?"

"Yes."

"What am I to you?"

"Someone special." Kousei's voice was jagged with emotion. "Someone I . . . wish I didn't have to hurt."

Tsubaki breathed in and out several times. "Was I just someone to fill in the time while she was gone?"

"No," Kousei whispered. "Never that. I was just as surprised to find out she was alive as you are."

"I . . . see." The girl with the tousled brown hair wiped her eyes. She began sniffling. "Look at me. I promised I wouldn't cry." She pressed down hard on her eyes with the handkerchief she carried.

Kaori stood and bowed deeply, hands on legs. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused, Tsubaki. But I can't apologize for my feelings toward Kousei."

Tsubaki stopped wiping her cheeks. "It's not that you can't apologize, Kao-chan. You won't apologize, and I understand why. You're basically a selfish person." Her eyes glittered.

Kaori looked unhappily at her. "If wanting to be happy is selfish, then yes, I am. If trying to appeal to Kousei through something we share is a terrible thing to do, then I'm a bad person for doing that."

"Neither of those would give anyone cause to complain. But you made sure he'd remember you, even though you knew you didn't have long to live! You knew you'd hurt him, but you went ahead and did what you did!" Tsubaki shot to her feet. "I can't forgive _that_! Did you realize—no, did you even care—how close Kousei came to breaking again, like he did when his mom died?"

"But he didn't! Taking risks is part of who we are! Otherwise you'll suddenly realize one day that you've gone and wasted your life, just because you were afraid all the time!"

Tsubaki's face contorted into a mask of fury. She raised her hand.

The slap sounded like a pistol shot. Kaori staggered backward and clutched at her cheek.

"You irresponsible little brat! You naïve doll!" Tsubaki shouted. "Who gave you the right to play with other people like that? What if Kousei had broken, huh? What if he had lost the will to live, would you be there to help fix the damage you did? No, leave it for others to do, if he didn't jump off a building or just die pining for you in the meantime."

"It wasn't as if I had a choice! If you were in my place," Kaori asked, her voice quietening down, "would you have stopped yourself? Would you have been able to? I already paid my dues having that operation which almost killed me." She removed her hand from her cheek, and they saw angry red flesh underneath. "Of course I knew I would break his heart! If only I could make you understand what I went through to get back to Kousei!"

"What are you saying?" Tsubaki scoffed, feeling a growing disquiet at Kaori's words and the pinprick of anger growing in her blue eyes. "Have you gone crazy?"

"It would've been so easy to just give up. No more pain, no more worrying." It was as if the pale-haired girl hadn't heard her; lost in her own world of pain, Kaori babbled on, eyes open but unseeing. "Just let the light consume me. No more Kaori Miyazono. I'd be part of everything. I'd know the secrets of every living thing on Earth, including you. But I forsook all that. I went through heaven and hell for him, Tsubaki! You think it was a lovely journey, fleeing from one place to another, being hunted by greedy butchers?" She looked up, eyes burning. "I did what I set out to do. I got him back in front of the piano. What did you ever do for him?"

"I was his friend. I tried to keep him from crumbling," Tsubaki said, taking solace in the fact that she had known and supported Kousei for far longer than this arrogant upstart had. "And unlike you, I've done lots of things for him ever since we were kids. You weren't there to piggyback him home after he had skinned his knee. You weren't there to drag him out of his house and try and put the smile back on his face after his mother had beaten him. And you weren't there to try and plug that hole you left in his heart."

"That isn't fair—"

"That's enough, both of you," snapped Kousei. "Yes, Kaori, you did shatter me into pieces. But it was your terrible gift that helped me make it through, even though Springs passed without the girl who had left me just after she had reawakened my dreams."

"So did my friends, who never failed to be there for me. Who both put up with me in my despair. It's thanks to all of you that I didn't break down like before." He turned to Tsubaki. "Now I ask you—I beg you—suffer us to live the way we want to."

Tsubaki's sniffles had given way to sobs. Hiding her face in her hands, she cried quietly. Kousei wanted to comfort her, but he knew she would have nothing to do with someone who had just poisoned the well of a thirteen-year-old friendship, so he had to stand there and watch her suffer.

Tsubaki dabbed at her eyes. "Fair enough. I guess I was too s-stupid to understand. I hope y-you two will be happy t-together." She stood up and walked away quickly. From behind some nearby trees Watari emerged and gestured at Kousei. The latter shook his head, whereupon Watari nodded and ran after Tsubaki. As he caught up to her, he appeared to say something to her. Surprised by his appearance, she snarled "I don't need your help! Get away from me!" loud enough for them to hear. Shrugging his shoulders, Watari gave Kousei a brief wave and trotted after her.

"I wish things could've gone better," Kaori said quietly. She was standing behind Kousei's left side, her eyes sadly watching the figures of Tsubaki and Watari disappear from sight behind some greenery.

Kousei sighed. "Kaori?"

"Hmm?"

"In the future, when you talk about moving heaven and earth, of sacrifices, and doubt how I feel about you—kindly remember this day and what I gave up."

Kaori wrapped her arms around his waist and, closing her eyes, hugged him. Something warm and liquid touched the back of her hand, and did so again, and again.

\- - - oOo - - -

Now _this chapter's finished. Sorry about that. I apologize for the overall quality of this chapter (it was originally 2 separate ones), and the long delay in putting it out (it was on fire). Also, I've begun to study the violin and have bought my own. I've learned about first position, second position, third position, the proper way to carry a violin, and that you don't just chuck your bridge into the trash unless you're prepared to carve a new one yourself. The latter I found out the hard way_ _—and there are no luthiers hereabouts._


End file.
